


The Rules

by UnicornForceWinds



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: BDSM, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-02-05 03:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 49,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12785550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnicornForceWinds/pseuds/UnicornForceWinds
Summary: AU. On the 4th floor of a nondescript building, hidden amongst the warehouses on a street devoid of life, the discerning professional can relieve their stress and live out their fantasies, under the expert guidance of Mistress Setsu. He only met her by accident, but is compelled to return. Is this actually what he needs? What happens when feelings develop, and the rules are broken?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I want to emphasize that everything Setsu/Kyoko does to Ren is what he wants her to do, and especially with knife and fire play (which can be legitimately dangerous), they’ve discussed it explicitly in advance. Kyoko is also an experienced professional who knows exactly what she’s doing.
> 
> If you ever think about getting into BDSM, you need to do extensive research, and be really careful who you ‘play’ with. Informed and enthusiastic consent is the extremely important line separating BDSM from abuse. Contrary to what most people would assume, the submissive is actually the one in control, and it is their fantasy the Dominant brings to life. Limits of play, and the degree of surrender, are all decided by the sub (but obviously Doms can have limits too, like Kyoko has hard limits about genitals and full nudity). AND, aftercare is EXTREMELY important, and can be equally so for both Dom and sub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I even need to say this will be extremely OOC? I’m not really sure where this story will go, or how frequently it will be updated. The first chapter is totally SFW, but obviously it won’t stay that way. Since Kyoko only provides domination services, I’m not sure how lemony it will be, but lbr, probably very. When it comes to Kyoko and Ren, a rule like ‘no sex’ just has to be broken xD

He was going to have a few choice words for Yashiro when he got back. Not only had his directions gotten him completely lost, but his phone was also dead. What exactly did he have an assistant for, if not making sure things like this didn’t happen?

He pulled the car over, looking dubiously at his surroundings. The towering warehouses showed no outside sign of life, and there wasn’t another person on the street anywhere that he could see. He decided to walk up a block, hoping to run into someone, when a businessman exited one of the buildings.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me find -”

“Yes, ahem, well, it’s that door there,” he explained, pointing. “Sorry, I really must be going.”

“Sir, if you cou-” but the man hadn’t even stopped, and quickly disappeared around the corner. “Well that’s just fucking fantastic.”

He leaned his head back and let out a sigh, deciding his best bet was to go inside, since at least then there might be someone willing to give him directions. The door was locked, and there was no name next to the buzzer, but at this point he was pressed for options, so he rang the bell.

“Speak,” a feminine voice commanded.

What the hell kind of a greeting was that? Today was shaping up to be a real shitshow.

“Yes, hello. I’m afraid I’m lost, and I was hoping that perhaps you-”

 _Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz._ He pulled the heavy door open quickly, before they had a chance to change their mind. It was clean inside, with a sort sterile, hospital feeling, the entry bare except for a concrete stairway to his left, and a freight elevator straight ahead. He bent down to lift the gate, wondering if this was all a waste of his time. What floor was he even supposed to get off on? Neither the voice over the speaker, or the man he’d run into, bothered to tell him that.

There was a star next to the number four, so he figured that was as good an option as any other. There was a short hallway, and another door, everything in black. Was this it? He lifted his hand to knock, determined to at least try since he’d come this far. It’d been about 45 seconds, and he didn’t hear anything from inside, so he wondered if maybe it was the wrong floor. He considered knocking again, but that was probably pointless. Then, just as he was about to leave, the door opened.

Whatever he was expecting, that was most certainly not it. She was short, with steely eyes and long blonde hair streaked with pink. Her clothes were tight and black and left just enough to the imagination. She surveyed him appraisingly and pursed her pierced lips, taking the riding crop in one hand and cracking it against her open palm.

“You don’t have an appointment,” she mused, circling around him and extending a long leg to push the door shut with her foot, “That’s _very_ bad.”

“Uh, I’m not...”

“Shhhhhh,” she cooed, stroking a hand down his cheek. “You’re safe here. Nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen, but first,” she explained, directing him to follow her, “we’ll talk things over, discuss the details of our contract, and then we’ll schedule your first session.”

She sat him in a cushioned velvet chair, perching on the arm beside him.

“Now, tell Mistress Setsu why you’re here.”

He took a breath, figuring out how best to tell her this was all a misunderstanding. Would she be upset, embarrassed, angry? It wasn’t as though he’d been trying to deceive her, but he had an appointment to keep, and he wasn’t here for her services.

“That’s... an accident, actually. My phone died, and a man I tried asking for information from directed me here. I apologize for having wasted your time, and of course I’m happy to compensate you for any loss, but I absolutely cannot be late.”

“I see.”

She leaned over him, looking into his eyes. Her gaze was sharp, intense, and then the contact was broken. She glided off the chair and across the room, her catlike movements holding his gaze, as he made his way to the door. Leaning artfully over a desk in one corner, she grabbed something from a drawer and stalked towards him.  Reaching out, she grabbed his hands, placing something in his palms and dragging her fingers slowly along his as she pulled away.

“I’m not so sure it’s an accident,” she smirked, “maybe it was _fate_. Be a good boy and see yourself out, no charge this time.”

He looked at her curious, just noticing the mobile charger she’d placed in his hand.

“At least let me pay you for this.”

“If it bothers you too much to keep it, then you can always return it to me.”

She winked, waving him off with a little wiggle of her fingers. He smiled politely and bowed his head in thanks, before turning to leave. There was something peculiar about her that struck him, something in her eyes. Still, if she wasn’t worried about the charger, then there was no reason he should. It was a small thing really, and he had an appointment to keep. Maybe, with a bit of creative driving, he could actually get there on time.

  

 

She was far less interested in whether or not he came back, than in the client who’d carelessly lead him to her. Was he also inclined to gab thoughtlessly about her to friends after a couple of drinks? If she didn’t cancel his contract outright, there was going to be a severe penalty for this breach of conduct. Were the rules somehow unclear? No, she was certain they were laid them out very carefully. Maybe she needed to further narrow her selection process.

The phone unlocked with her fingerprint and a password, the number she was looking for on speed dial.

“Mistress.”

“Sato-san, who was here this evening? Schedule him for my next availability. He’s violated the rules, and I’ll very likely have to terminate his contract.”

“Ugh, he’s a slimy, little worm anyway.”

“ _Chiori_ ,” she warned, separately enunciating every syllable.

“Right, sorry. I know I’m not supposed to talk that way about clients, but you know it’s true! It’s not like I’d say it to his face, anyway. At least not at work.”

“ _Chiori_.”

“Fine, I’ll relay the message. Was that all you needed?”

“I want you to go through my schedule and clear out this time slot for three weeks.”

“Just on Thursdays, or?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask.”

“ _Bye_ , Chiori.”

Maybe it was silly, since he hadn’t given her any indication that he was coming back. Still, she had a feeling about him; there was something in his eyes - it was pain, hidden deep. That was something she could probably help him with, if he let her. And if not, then there were plenty of ways to otherwise occupy her time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, gimme all your ideas! What exactly should Ren’s job be? I was thinking maybe corporate lawyer, but I’m not sure. Something kind of prestigious, high stress, and requiring charisma. I may have Kyoko own some kind of shop in her regular life, maybe a bakery?
> 
> Also, especially in the beginning, this will probably be a lot less sexy than some people are hoping for, sorry xD


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another setup chapter, with Ren’s first session happening in the next. Bear in mind that Kyoko is in character (a more grownup, brother-less Setsu) but she will appear as herself later in the fic. This will probably be written predominantly from Ren’s POV.

He sat in his car, the phone charger in his hand, wondering what the hell he was thinking. It wasn’t courtesy that brought him here, the charger not being worth very much, but after two weeks of waiting, his curiosity could no longer be ignored. Would she be annoyed to see him back, her remark about returning only a tease? What if she was busy entertaining a client? He should just go back home, turn the key in the ignition, drive away, and forget all about this.

“Speak,” commanded the voice on the intercom, making his pulse spike.

“I wanted to return the charger.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie, he thought, tensing up but relieved when the buzzer sounded. What was he doing? This was stupid, he thought, pressing the number four in the elevator. He wasn’t even all that interested in sex, and he could find that easily if he wanted anyway, so why did he come here? Shaking his head and letting out a deep breath, he raised his hand, hesitating before knocking on the familiar black door. When it finally opened, she smirked up at him with bright pink lips.

“Very thoughtful of you to come all this way,” she joked, leading him inside.

“It felt rude not to, after you helped me in my time of need.”

She smiled at him knowingly, raising an eyebrow.

“Would you like to sit down?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and looking up at him with those intense, feline eyes.

This was a mistake. What did he hope to achieve by coming here? Still, he followed her to the same cushioned velvet chair, where she once again perched on the arm beside him, and for a fleeting moment he wanted to reach out and touch her. Where the impulse came from, he didn’t know, but it was easily silenced.

“Why don’t we start with your name?”

“My name.” He wondered if he should make something up and lie, but then wouldn’t he be lying no matter what he said? “I’m Ren.”

“Ren,” she repeated, her voice like silk. “We can do first names if you would like, and I of course, am Setsu. Mistress Setsu, during sessions.”

Should he say that it was nice to meet her? He wasn’t really aware of the protocol in these situations.

“It’s alright if you don’t know what you want, we can always figure that out together. Unless you have a particular fantasy in your head already, of course.”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” he admitted, a little awkward.

“You’re safe here,” she promised, setting her hand on his and squeezing gently. “There’s no judgment in this space. If you want to be tied or chained or caged, gagged and beaten, or to clean the dirty bottoms of my boots with your tongue. I’ll think no less of you, and it will never leave this room.”

What did he want? He was drawn back here for a reason, drawn back to _her_ , but none of what she said sounded particularly appealing. Rough sex wasn’t something new to him, but then he’d never been the one getting tied up. Handing over complete control to someone like that, could he really do it? Did he actually want to? Trusting people wasn’t exactly his strong suit, or something he was normally anywhere near the realm of comfortable with.

“Do you have any medical conditions we’ll need to accommodate, such as high blood pressure or diabetes? Back or knee injuries? Allergies, particularly to latex?”

“No, nothing.”

“And what about psychological triggers?”

His body tensed instinctively, his eyes darting to the shackle on his wrist. He closed his eyes for just a second, and let a silent breath out his nose.

 

 

Hesitation was normal, but this was different. His eyes changed, reflexively seeking his watch, and giving her a glimpse beneath his mask. Being successful and safe in her line of work was all about intuition and the ability to read people. This man, who was charming and polite and friendly on the outside, was hiding a dark secret beneath the surface. She almost let go of his hand when his body stiffened to the point of being rigid, but she wasn’t ready to dismiss him just yet.

“I need to know if certain kinds of play will be too traumatic for you,” she clarified. “Having these kinds of triggers is completely normal, and play is usually easily adapted.”

“I… don’t think so.”

His face was impassive, revealing nothing to her. Whether or not he was aware, she couldn’t say, but she would find out soon enough either way. She could tell already that he was going to be a difficult one, but she did enjoy a challenge, and it would be that much better when he finally submitted to her fully. He would be fun to break, she could tell.

“Do you have any hard limits? Things you absolutely won’t do? What about marks, do you want me to leave them or not? And if so, where?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. I don’t have a lot of experience with this. Marks don’t matter, if they won’t be seen.”

He really wasn’t good at opening up, the was for certain. Difficult summed it up perfectly, but she could _still_ work with this, probably. _Think of the challenge_ , she told herself, beginning to wonder if this would turn out to be a waste of her time. Even if the first session was bad, at least she’d still get paid, and if he never came back, then it wouldn’t be a huge loss anyway. Despite everything though, she had a feeling about him, and those instincts were rarely ever wrong.

“Now,” she began, standing up and taking his hand, “shall we take the tour?”

 

 

He rose to his feet, despite his ambivalence, if only for the sake of manners. Should he compensate her for wasting her time, apologize, and leave? It felt so strange, being here and talking about this, his hand held by a woman he was meant to pay to abuse him. Was he really so twisted? His stomach turned at the thought of Kuon, locked away inside him. He knew well the depths of his own depravity, but that only meant this was an even worse idea.

She lead him first to a table, arranged with a considerable assortment of various, what he assumed were, torture devices. Some things he recognized easily enough, but others he’d never seen before.

“During your first session, we can experiment with any of these implements that interest you. BDSM is all about the sensory experience, and we’ll discover which sensations work for you, and which ones don’t.”

“Here, we have the St. Andrews Cross and the Catherine Wheel. Both are used for restraining purposes, the latter able to rotate, so you can hang upside down.”

To demonstrate this, she bent down, her ass sticking out intentionally, and spun the wheel.

“Next, we have the cage, which is self-explanatory, and the suspension winch, which creates a different sensation from being restrained to a surface. Then, the wooden stocks and the steel yoke...”

Most of the devices she showed him were straightforward, but a few of them were outright baffling. He still didn’t know that he necessarily wanted to experience any of them firsthand, or if he even planned to come back after the consultation was over. It was only an idle interest anyway, and one that could most likely be ignored. Having returned, and being taken more or less through the process, he hoped that his previous curiosity was now fully sated, and he could put this behind him.

With the tour over, he was meant to be signing a contract. That admittedly made him extremely uncomfortable, until he realized that it was mostly just a non-disclosure agreement, dressed up with some BDSM specific sections, that were meant to be added to as the _relationship_ progressed. What surprised him though, was one of the rules. Clients were not allowed in any way to touch her without express permission, which wasn’t so odd, but sexual contact was expressly forbidden.

He’d assumed that, especially for the considerable fee of fifty thousand yen per hour, sex was involved. Somehow that made him feel more curious. Did the people who came to see her enjoy getting tied up and whipped that much, and couldn’t they find someone willing to do it for free? Sessions ran two hours on average, she told him, so was there something special she did that made her worth one hundred thousand yen? Now, more than ever, he wanted to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The *good* stuff is beginning next chapter, finally! But, bear in mind that it is non-sexual for now, and it’s going to take him a while to really get comfortable with being dominated.
> 
> Still here for any ideas you have! What kind of humiliating/insulting lines do you think Ren would want to hear? What kind of tortures do you think he’d be most into?
> 
> So far people have suggested ceo and world class surgeon, for his occupation. All I know right now is he’s some kind of executive, and works for Lory. Obviously a rising star in his field and well respected/admired, but he still has things to learn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, first torture session ahead!

Yellow meant caution, and red meant stop. There was a private bathroom where he could spend some ‘alone time’ after the session, which she emphasized that he’d be required to clean. They’d discussed safety precautions and gone over the rules again, specifically the no touching without permission.

Ren’s’ body was built well, so he had no reason to be insecure, and he didn’t normally have a problem with nakedness, but he felt somehow self-conscious, standing before this woman in only his underwear. Socks were optional, she said, but he’d taken them off, and the cool floor felt nice against his feet. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, fingers dragging along and lingering on his skin, as she fastened the restraints. She was going to ‘warm him up’ with the floggers, and he wasn’t feeling particularly excited about it, but had come too far to turn back now.

She turned him to face the X-shaped frame, using a step to secure his wrists, before strapping his ankles. Her hands trailed down his arms, and up to his knees, after she secured each strap. He wondered at her thoughtfulness, and the level of care she showed for his comfort. Was this typical? It was nothing like he’d imagined at all, managing somehow to be both extremely erotic and chaste simultaneously, which made his body confused about how to respond.

“We’ll start slow and gentle, warming up your skin and increasing blood flow. If there are any sensations you don’t like, tell me.”

“Alright.”

“Alright, _what?”_ she asked, her voice taking on a little bit of an edge.

“Alright, Mistress,” he corrected, the words feeling and sounding a bit ridiculous to him.

“Good boy.”

The first thud was surprising, and more odd than anything, as the tails made contact with his skin. She alternated using sweeping flicks across his body with one, along his back and shoulders, as well as his ass and thighs, and then working two of them in an up and down circular motion. He’d refused the blindfold, and mostly he just felt awkward, and a bit like being in a car wash, until he received the first proper snap.

His body tensed, the tails back to their rhythmic circles, soothing away the sting, until _thwack_ , harder than the first time. His wrists and ankles strained slightly against the bonds, a reflex as he started to really settle into the sensation of being confined. It was strange to be at another person’s mercy, but secure in the knowledge that you were ultimately in control of what they did, and had the power to stop them at any time.

“Oh, you like that? You want it harder? Open your mouth and say the words.”

He almost wanted to laugh, because it just felt silly, but he _was_ enjoying himself in an odd way that he didn’t expect.

“Yes,” he breathed out, “Mistress.”

“Good boy,” she praised, whipping him across the ass with surprising intensity.

 

 

He was doing pretty well for his first time, and at least so far, less resistant than she prepared for. Comfort with the language would come in time, and she’d learn what humiliating and insulting things he enjoyed hearing, by easing words in and testing them out. Despite his hesitation, his body was responding well, and she could use a higher intensity flogger on their next session.

His back had arched slightly, and he started to groan, but the skin was getting very red, and she didn’t want to leave any welts this early into the experimentation stage. Though, she had a feeling he might enjoy that in the future. Gradually, she decreased her strength, cooling him down a bit with gentle, thudding circles, and easing him to a stop. First, she unfastened his ankles, and then his wrists, ensuring that he wasn’t too dizzy or lightheaded to stand on his own.

“Now,” she instructed sternly, “you will follow me, kneeling where I command, and see how you tolerate your neck being confined. In the future, I may require you to crawl behind me on the floor like a dog, or pull you with a leash and collar, but for now you will be permitted to walk. Acknowledge.”

“Yes Mistress,” he answered.

It was still unnatural, but it would do for now.

 

 

She spoke to him with the confidence of someone used to commanding respect, and despite towering over her physically, he found himself cowed by just her tone and the look in her eyes. It still wasn’t entirely comfortable, but he’d enjoyed the effects of obedience, so despite his reservations, he was inclined to submit. He was exposed before her beyond his nakedness, and there was nothing he feared more than letting go. This was a dangerous tightrope he walked.

“Kneel, facing me,” she ordered, and he did as instructed. “Such a good boy,” she cooed.

She smiled at him, her eyes dark, and grabbed hold of his chin, tilting his head side to side, and then slapping him hard across the cheek. Whether it was meant to be punishment or praise, he couldn’t tell, but he wanted to grab her and drag her into his lap. If Kuon was waking up, that meant he should probably tell her to stop, but for some inexplicable reason, he wanted to stay and be tortured more by this woman, especially if she used her bare hands.

“Raise your hands, level with your head.”

She lowered a wooden yoke from the wall, hanging from a pair of chains, and enclosed it around him, trapping his neck and wrists.

“Next we will experiment with the violet wand,” she told him, bringing out what appeared to be a light bulb on the end of a rod. “Touched directly to your skin,” she placed the bulb against her palm and it crackled to life with a small, purple flash, “the electricity dissipates into your body. However, if I pull it slightly away,” she explained, her hand jerking when the bulb zapped louder, this time filling with purple sparks, “then the electricity searches for a ground, and you’ll feel a shock.”

Was it wrong that he wanted to reverse their positions, and watch the rest of her body twitch?

“Shall we begin?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She touched him with the wand first, directly against his skin, and then lifted it up slightly, giving him a small shock. When he voiced no objection, she pulled it farther away, and shocked him again. She would zap him and then move to another spot on his chest, making him jerk at the sensation. It was like a more intense static shock, and he wasn’t sure how much he liked it, but it wasn’t unpleasant enough to make her stop.

“A vast number of sensations can be achieved with the violet wand, from gentle tingles to sharp burning and cutting pains. Shall I increase the intensity?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

The shocks became progressively stronger, until he spasmed, groaning slightly, but the pain was still quite mild. He looked up at her and she lifted her gaze, eyes boring into him as her focused face shifted into a wicked smile.

“Ahh,” he moaned, surprised at the intensity.

“So much fight left in you, shall I truly bring you to your knees before me?”

Kuon would’ve loved to show her what he could do on his knees, but he couldn’t very well back down from a challenge.

“Yes, _Mistress,”_ he answered, tone more playful than she would appreciate.

“Hmmm,” she breathed, almost a laugh.

She pushed her foot down on a dead switch, pulling out the light bulb from the wand and replacing it with a long chain attached to a flat, square piece of metal. He had no idea what it was for, but he had a feeling it would be fun. She kneeled in front of him, grabbing his chin as she had earlier, and slapping him much harder on the other side. He jerked against the wooden yoke towards her, and she didn’t even flinch.

She took the flat piece of metal in her hand and playfully snaked it down his torso, looking him straight in the eyes, before tucking it securely into the band of his underwear.

“Best not to move too much, unless you want that to slip to some place very unpleasant,” she warned him, looking very much like she hoped it would.

This time when she turned on the wand, he was surprised that there was no pain, just a sort of odd, tingling warmth. She picked up a small knife, the kind often used for throwing, and toyed with it between her hands, probably to build his anticipation. The look in her eyes was far more exciting to him, as she restrained a wider smile. She pressed the blade to his skin, and while it wasn’t a severe pain, he had to wonder if she’d actually cut him.

Apparently satisfied, or was it unsatisfied, with his reaction? She increased the intensity, this time dragging the blade along his chest. His eyes squeezed shut, his jaw clenching, and his back arched, as this woman cut him open without ever breaking the skin. First there were pauses in between cuts, and then she seemed to stop only long enough to move the blade to another part of his body.

When she increased the intensity again, he groaned loudly, his whole body tense and panting when she stopped to check on his state. She started again, first pressing the knife to his stomach, and causing him to jerk, but then dragging it once more, while his body was forced to stay as still as possible. It was impressively painful, to the point it was almost past erotic, but in his depravity he loved every minute of it.

“You did very well for your first time,” she told him, carefully removing the contact square and setting everything aside. “Be careful not to try standing when I release you, or you will crumple to the floor.”

His head swum, lightheaded and dizzy. Where pain often made him angry and determined, this only pulled all of that out of him. Her touch was soft as she lowered his wrists, gently massaging the skin. It was such an odd dichotomy, to mix torture with tenderness. Was everyone in her profession like this, and was this how she treated all of her clients? Each one probably wanted to think they were special, when they really meant nothing to her.

“Let’s try standing,” she suggested, his head nodding heavily. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

She was impressively strong for someone so small, hauling him to his feet. The angle was awkward as he leaned on her much shorter frame, but she was able to help him get to the bed. He’d wondered about the purpose of earlier, if maybe she sometimes spent time here unprofessionally. He plopped down, body spent, and she trailed her hand across his forehead and down the cheeks she’d slapped not long before.

“You did so well,” she cooed, never taking her hands away. “I think you’ll do even better next time, and your Mistress will be so proud.

He forced his eyes open to look up at her, as she looked down on him from above. It felt so deeply intimate, but she didn’t shy away, smiling softly at him instead. What kind of power did this woman have, to make him so vulnerable before her, but to feel almost safe? Could she do this to anyone? He understood her high fee, and wondered if she might’ve been underselling herself.

“You’re incredible,” he admitted honestly, life starting to come back to his limbs.

She chuckled tartly, “if you are suggesting you suspected otherwise before now, I will make you pay for it dearly.”

“Then,” he yawned, stretching out his limbs, “I will prepare myself.”

“Good,” she mused, “it seems you’re well enough to get up then.”

She pulled him into a hug as he left, surprising him. At once he wanted to be respectful towards her, and then he also wanted to run his nose along the column of her neck, breathing in her scent. Thankfully, she had worn him out enough that that part of his brain was mostly quiet, and a surprising peacefulness followed in its wake. This was all probably going to lead to somewhere terrible, and be another in a lifetime full of mistakes, but he wasn’t turning off this road just yet. Besides, he was already damned anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there we are. so many torture techniques to try on Ren, so little time! and again, open to suggestions. hope you enjoyed this chapter ^^


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another torture session this time around, but probably at least a few weeks removed from the last chapter.

Ren barely had time to stop and breathe over the past week, between the near constant meetings and important deadlines looming overhead. At one point he even found Yashiro asleep at his desk, when he came back to the office after seeing a client. He couldn’t blame him though, they were both exhausted, mentally and physically. How did it come to this that he saw steely eyes and a vicious smirk, every time he closed his eyes? Even as busy as he was, the week seemed to drag on far too slowly.

He pressed the buzzer, his heart thundering in his chest at the anticipation.

“Speak,” she ordered, and he obeyed gladly.

“Yes, Mistress.”

After the four, long floors in the elevator, she made him wait, as always, before answering the door.

“Someone’s very eager,” she mocked, running a large knife across the pale skin of her chest, where tight, black fabric hung low enough to expose the barest hint of her cleavage. “Get undressed, but leave your shirt on if you want me to ruin it.”

Ren couldn’t say if the physical or psychological torture was worse, but this woman was driving him crazy. He moved to follow her and she turned to stop him, shaking her head in disapproval.

“Get on your knees and crawl like the dog you are,” she ordered, and to his knees he went.

It was awkward, crawling across the cold, hard floor, but somehow fitting. Maybe she recognized him for the beast that he was, and intended to treat him as such. He should feel ashamed, disgusted, but instead he was excited; filled with anticipation at wondering exactly how she would punish him, and what she intended for his shirt.

“Climb onto the table and lie on your back, with your hands over your head.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Remember,” she warned, sternly, “there is an increased risk of panic, as we discussed. I will be far more disappointed if you don’t use your safewords, and I end up with your blood all over my dungeon, than if the play becomes too much and you end the scene. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

The threat of actual danger heightened his excitement, even as he realized he was being reckless and stupid. She fastened a cushioned restraint over each wrist, and buckled them securely, dragging her fingertips down his body. He jerked when her touch ghosted over his hips, closing his eyes to revel in the sensation. After the ankle cuffs were secured, the featherlight touch ended just above his knees, and she reached for the blindfold. Until now he’d been too reluctant to let her use it, but he knew the choice to stop was ultimately up to him.

“Don’t be afraid,” she assured him, “you’re safe here with me.”

She gently placed the thick, black fabric over his eyes, and he strained against his bonds, before releasing a breath and forcing his jaw to unclench.

“You’re doing so well,” she praised him, running her fingers up and down his arms.

He felt tense and nervous, but hyper aware. Every sound and touch more acute, as his body perceived the world around him without the use of his eyes.

“Are you ready for the warm up?”

His body was stiff, his breathing labored. Was he ready?

“Yes, Mistress.”

“ _Don’t_ lie to me,” she whispered against his ear, making him start. “Are you sure that you’re ready?”

He swallowed hard, letting out a deep breath.

“Yes, Mistress.”

His mind focused on the sound of her footfalls, growing further and then getting close. The anticipation before she touched him was intense, both sensing her moving above him, and actually feeling the heat of her skin when she got near enough.

“I’m going to run a wartenberg wheel down your body. This one isn’t sharp enough to cut you, so there’s no danger yet.”

She grabbed the outside of his hand, carefully placing the spiked wheel in his palm for reassurance. When he relaxed his grip, she began to move the wheel, dragging it slowly down his arm and to his chest. He’d have preferred the feel of bare skin and wondered when she planned to remove his shirt, but wouldn’t question her judgment. His body tingled as the little tickles moved down his stomach, tensing a bit when the cold metal first touched the skin of his thigh.

Everything else drifted away, his nerves springing to life as the spikes rolled across his body, somehow warming him up despite the chill. His head grew light, and the darkness didn’t seem so scary anymore, as he drifted in a sea of sensations, under the expert tutelage of his Mistress. His body twitched pleasantly, the memory of touch trailing across his flesh, following alongside each individual press of the spikes.

“You’ve done so well,” she praised, her voice sincere. “Do you still want to advance? There’s nothing wrong with staying where we are.”

Her voice flooded his senses but felt somehow far away. His tongue was heavy in his mouth, his body too relaxed to respond.

“Mmmm.”

She dragged her hand gently down his cheek and he leaned into the touch, absently wishing she would touch him more.

“If you lack the cognizance to properly reply, then we cannot advance,” she explained, her hand dragging slowly down his jaw to his throat.

She teased the buttons at the collar of his shirt, making his cock twitch. Still, he couldn’t seem to form the words she was looking for. The knowledge eluded him, hiding in some place just beyond his reach, and it felt too nice to try hard enough to get there.

She leaned over him, chuckling breathily against the shell of his ear, teasing. “I knew you’d enjoy the blindfold. You’re doing so well for your first time, and next time will be even better, I promise.”

With both hands she gripped either side of his shirt at the collar and ripped it open, sending buttons flying across the room. Cool air suddenly hit the skin of his torso, as he listened to little clattering sounds coming from all directions. His body jerked, appreciating the newness, and subconscious anticipation brought him even higher, even though his mind was nearly gone.

 

 

The blindfold had an even stronger effect on him than she expected, and would likely become an integral part of their sessions. She wondered if he’d end up finding this kind of gentle, sensory play more appealing than the pain he’d enjoyed until now, or if he’d want to combine them. He probably didn’t even realize how much this was a form of therapy to treat the wounds on his soul. In only a short time, he’d grown to trust her so much, and become so comfortable.

She couldn’t help feeling a little bit of idle curiosity about this man, who’d fallen into her lap completely by chance, and chosen to put himself at her mercy. He was so lost and confused that he didn’t have a clue who he was, let alone what he wanted. Still, he was always respectful to her, despite the spark of mischief she sometimes saw in his eyes, and he never finished himself off after their sessions. Whatever his story, he was definitely a strange one.

Ripping his shirt was a lot less fun than slicing the buttons off one by one or shredding it to ribbons, but she had promised to ruin it, and that sort of counted. This kind of play was a nice break for her, but it relaxed her too much, and verged on being more intimate than she was comfortable with. It was always a precarious balance, enforcing a professional distance when people opened themselves up to you so completely, but she could tell he wasn’t the type to try and push her boundaries. At least, not without permission.

It was a terrible tease, but she was feeling bold and didn’t want him to fall asleep. She moved in close and bent over him, alternating blowing cool and hot air in a path from his wrist to his shoulder. He jerked suddenly, letting out a small moan, and she felt a wicked grin curve up her lips. She dragged her fingers along the edge of the table, just barely skimming his side, and then made a pass from his ankle to his thigh. His hips bucked slightly, and she proceeded back down on the other leg.

For the final bit of torture for the evening, she felt especially daring, and did something usually outside her comfort zone. Moving part way up his body, she breathed out just beneath his navel, and began to travel slowly upwards to his chest, stopping at the hollow space between his collarbones. His back arched to try and meet her, and his wrists struggled against the restraints, but he was powerless to break free and capture her.

“Uhnnnn,” he moaned, still groggy, his head turning side to side to seek her out.

“It’s time to come back to the world,” she told him, holding back a chuckle.

He let out something between a groan and a sigh, and began to shift in place, at least as much as his position allowed. Carefully, she removed the blindfold, and paused to gauge his response. His eyes opened part way and immediately closed, no longer used to the light. If he was as out of it as he looked, she might need to call a taxi for him. She unbuckled the cuffs, first from his wrists and then his ankles, her fingers tapping as they moved down his arms and up his legs, to help wake him up.

 

 

Coming down from the feeling of floating outside his body was the last thing he wanted to do, but he would not trample on her kindness, no matter how much his flesh resisted. She really was incredible, and he felt more relaxed than he had in his entire adult life. Self-reproach was a powerful reflex response, but one that he was too far gone to summon. He lowered his arms slowly to the sides, one of his shoulders popping loudly. It felt a lot like waking up prematurely from a deep sleep, and he struggled to sit up.

“Don’t rush,” she assured him, her patience much too indulgent.

With her help, he moved to sitting, and swung his legs over the side of the table.

“You’re not ready to stand yet, so don’t even think about trying it.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he drawled, eyes still struggling to stay open.

She rested a hand firmly on his shoulder, which served both to keep him steady, and to ground him. He’d been breathing in her scent almost the entire session, and wanted so badly to lean forward and rest his head in the crook of her neck. Could he pay her extra for that, he wondered idly? It was probably inappropriate to ask.

“Here,” she said, placing a glass of juice into his hand and helping him lift it to his mouth. “Your blood sugar shouldn’t be too low, but it won’t hurt anyway.”

Well, at least she wasn’t making him eat. That was one form of torture he doubted he could ever get off on, even if she was the one feeding him.

“Thank you,” he murmured, having finally finished his drink.

“It’s just juice,” she teased, cocking her head to the side and raising an eyebrow.

“No, I mean it,” he insisted. “What you’ve done for me was something I never thought possible. When I’m with you, the rest of the world fades away. Is that normal?”

“It can be, though everyone is different. Subspace, it’s called, the trance-like state entered into by the submissive during a BDSM scene.”

So, his experience really was typical, along with his fleeting desire to be different. What a fool he was, that he had nothing in his life besides work and this. Aside from Yashiro, this stranger who tied him up and tortured him for money, was the closest thing he had to a friend. If they knew each other for real, she would know just how pathetic he was. Then again, with those razor sharp instincts of hers, maybe she already did. Not like it mattered either way.

“How are you feeling, still lightheaded?”

“No, I think I’m fine.”

“You think, or you _know?_ ” she asked more forcefully, running her fingers through his hair.

He would almost kill to feel her nails gently grazing his scalp, but he would be happy with whatever she gave him.

“I _know_ ,” he mused, tilting his head to look her in the face.

She clicked her tongue, grabbing his chin and moving it side to side.

“Just what am I going to do with such a willful little pet?”

He smiled wickedly, her hand still touching his face.

“Punish me of course, _Mistress_.”

“Mmhmm, and I will do exactly that, _next week_ ,” she grinned, winking.

She made sure he was up to standing, and helped him get to his feet. He could’ve managed it on his own, but he wasn’t going to refuse a chance for her to touch him. As always, she hugged him before he left, and he clenched his fists to avoid pulling her into his body and holding her close. This was just part of the after care, it didn’t mean anything special, and eventually it would probably stop getting to his head. His attraction to her was only because of the intimate nature of their interaction anyway, and just like her, it wasn’t actually real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously a very different session from the last chapter, and most likely going to be much rougher next time, once he’s more used to the blindfold. Also, could it be, were they actually flirting a bit there? The world may never know ;)
> 
> An evil part of me is so tempted to do a pet play scene, because of Ren’s puppy dog eyes. Just imagine him crawling around on all fours, acting like a dog, including barking and whining. If I never update again, it’s because I died laughing. Nothing against pet play, but picturing Ren like that is just too funny to me with Ren. I’m a bad person, I know.
> 
> And yes, Kyoko 100% will be in the story as herself! Eventually. I have something vaguely planned out in my head for that, and it’s probably a bit cliche, but ehhh. Thanks for reading and all the wonderful reviews!


	5. Chapter 5

“I don’t understand how you can be so nice to them when they’re so disgusting. Eugh,” she grimaced, visibly cringing, “just the thought of hugging them after makes my skin crawl.”

She shrugged. “That’s probably because your clients are the type that get off on your hatred of them, and there is mutual respect with mine.”

“Oh yeah, like that Sato-san, who ran his mouth off to some random passerby? Very respectful. What ever happened with that guy anyway?”

“Sato-san? He made reparations.”

“No,” she paused, casting a pointed look in her direction, “the _pass_ \- wait, are you blushing?”

“Mmmoko-saaan! Hahahaha, don’t be _ridiculous_. There’s nothing to say anyway, we meet once a week, pretty basic stuff you know, no big deal.”

“ _Mogami Kyoko._ Are you stupid? This isn’t a game, mo. You just start doing sessions with some literally random guy off the street? He could be dangerous Kyoko, _think_ ,” she lectured, flicking her in the forehead.

She frowned, rubbing the stinging space between her brows.

“ _Moko-san_ ,” she whined, “please don’t be upset with me.”

“Don’t even give me those puppy eyes, Kyoko, I’m serious. I mean it, I’m not going to - _ARGH_ , just fine, whatever, be stupid.” Kanae pushed her chair away from the table, refusing to look at her. “I’m going to the counter to help Chiori, you _stay here_ and think about your actions.”

“Moko-san,” she trailed off, pouting.

This was exactly why she didn’t say anything, because Kanae would tell her she was being stupid. Under normal circumstances, she absolutely never would’ve accepted a client who wasn’t properly vetted, but this was a special situation. Well, it was… okay, so maybe she was making excuses, but she _knew_ that he wasn’t dangerous in a way she had to worry about. Even with the bit of flirting here or there, he was impeccably respectful towards her, so what was the problem? It really wasn’t that big of a deal.

 

 

“Yes, Love Me Cafe, I found it - No, it’s no trouble, honestly - Yes, yes, got it - Yashiro, please don’t worry about it, I’ll talk to you later.”

He hit end on the call, walking across the street when the signal changed. It was just a simple lunch order, but Yashiro made it out to be the end of the world. Was he so helpless or something, that managing a basic task like this seemed reasonably beyond his capabilities? He felt like he was somehow being insulted.

“Welcome to Love Me,” the tall woman at the counter groused, not even bothering to look up. “What do you want?”

He balked, her manner almost comically unfriendly. “I’m, uh, here to pick up an order.”

“Name?” she demanded, jutting out her chin.

“... Yashiro Yukihito.”

“Chiori, help this customer.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to keep from smiling. She might’ve been the rudest person he’d interacted with since coming to Japan. His mind, of course, wandered to his Mistress, and he idly thought this woman would be well suited to domination. Maybe not all clients wanted the kind of tenderness and care Setsu showed. Was she different with her other subs? Would she laugh if he told her about the experience? They’d become a bit friendlier, but he didn’t want to push the limits.

“ _Ahem_ ,” the shorter employee cleared her throat, “don’t mind her, she’s just in a mood.”

“You know what? You’re both idiots,” the former huffed, untying and then tossing aside her apron, before walking right past him and out the door.

“Yep, like I said, _in a mood_. Anyway, you were here to pick up an order?”

He was starting to wonder if Yashiro sent him here on purpose, knowing what it was like beforehand.

“Yes, the name is Yashiro Yukihito,” he repeated.

“Got it, just a minute.”

No other customers had come in while he’d been there, and he was honestly not surprised, if the scene he’d witnessed was typical. They probably wouldn’t stay in business for long, unless they were frequented by submissives, who specifically wanted terrible service. In that case, they could probably carve out a respectable niche, but it wasn’t for him.

 

 

“Speak,” she instructed, mouth curving into a small smile.

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered, the words completely natural now.

She smoothed out her clothes and pulled on the edge of her skirt, fiddling with the lacing at the side as she waited by the door. 120 seconds, and then just a little bit more for good measure, as she jut out her hip and adopted the usual low-tension smirk, before finally letting him in.

“Always so punctual, what a good boy you are.”

“Anything to please you, _Mistress_.”

There was that glint in his eyes again, and the warmth in her belly. It wasn’t a crime if she didn’t completely hate being around him. The little conversations they had before and after sessions never strayed outside of playful and casually friendly anyway, when some of her other subs tended to get very personal, so what was the big deal? It didn’t mean anything at all.

“Take off your clothes, and select your punishment.”

 

 

He almost suggested that she take them off for him, but that probably would have been taking the flirtatious teasing too far, and he didn’t want her to stop responding to it. Of course he knew that it didn’t mean anything, but it was enticement enough to encourage him; to continue nudging against the boundary between them, and to make them more comfortable with each other. Then again, he was the only one that seemed to need help with that.

There were so many choices that it was honestly hard to decide, as he scanned the implement table. His eyes closed briefly, flooded with the memory of a particular sensation, each item before him a tool, expertly wielded by a master. _His Mistress_. He was always torn between the pain from getting whipped, and the gentle intimacy of the less aggressive forms of torture. What would she prefer, he wondered, and did she actually enjoy using any of them?

“What if I want to leave it to your discretion, Mistress?”

She put a hand to her lips, chuckling mischievously.

“Are you _certain_ you want to do that?

He closed his eyes as she stalked toward him, his hands gripping the edge of the table, as the sound of each progressive step deepened his anticipation. She stood directly behind him, her fingertips creeping up his spine to his neck and making him shiver.

“Kneel,” she commanded.

He dropped to his knees, eyes kept firmly shut. Maybe he should’ve had her put on the blindfold first. She placed one hand on each of his shoulders and he shuddered, her touch electrifying his nerves, as she bent down to whisper in his ear.

“I don’t think you want me to have that kind of control my pet, to do absolutely _anything_ I want to to you. I could do something as simple as cutting off all your hair, or as severe as branding your flesh, and permanently marking you as mine.”

His muscles tensed with excitement, and in response to the soft tickle of her breath. He wanted her to touch him; to use her bare hands to wring pain and pleasure from his body.

“What if that’s what I want?” he breathed, more just a thought escaping than intended as a question.

The hands on his shoulders moved inwards and grabbed his neck, squeezing gently.

“Then you should be careful what you wish for,” she warned.

He tilted his head back, wishing she would press her body against him, as well as desiring the physical reprimand that would follow his insolent action. Her hands slid up from his throat, over his jaw and cheekbones, and then snaked into his hair, rewarding him with a sudden, solid tug. He groaned, his back arching slightly. Was there anything she could do to him that he wouldn’t enjoy? Hell, at this point he was practically begging.

“Get on all fours,” she commanded, pushing him firmly away, “like the dog that you are.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She shackled him into a full body stockade; spreader bars chained to metal cuffs trapped his wrists and ankles, while a pole, extending upwards from the base of the frame, held a collar that closed snugly around his throat. The floor was cold and hard against his knees, but nothing compared to the metal touching his skin. He shivered slightly from the cold, but he was too excited to feel it, knowing what was coming.

“Shall I gag and blindfold you, like a feral beast?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Even without his neck being restrained, the defiance to turn his eyes upon her was gone. In this moment he had fully submitted his entire being to her, and had never felt more alive. The world outside the walls of the dungeon was a distant memory that had ceased to exist. She carefully secured the thick, black fabric over his eyes, adjusting it at the back of his head. This darkness was safe and welcoming, and held the familiar comfort of home.

“And now the gag. Your last chance to back out,” she cautioned.

“ _Please_ , Mistress,” he begged, eager to achieve an even deeper surrender.

She carefully pushed the gag into his mouth, the skin stretching as his jaw opened wide to accommodate the large rubber ball, that could only fit about halfway. It was awkward at first, his teeth pressed against the alien surface, and unable to close his mouth.

“How pathetic you are right now, completely at my mercy. I could do absolutely anything I wanted to you, and you’d be powerless to stop me.”

It was true, he was now vulnerable to her in a way he never had been before. In all their previous sessions, he could end the play simply by speaking the right words. That ability was now removed, and he was utterly helpless, but somehow, instead of feeling trapped and desperate to escape, he felt safe, and free. His life was in her hands, and he trusted her implicitly.

“We’ll start with the whip,” she informed him, his muscles tensing in anticipation.

 

 

She held the three foot, single tail whip looped around her hands, as she circled him. When his body had stilled completely, waiting patiently for her to act, she snapped it overhead. His body jerked against the restraints, the sound as exciting as it was formidable. She didn’t notice the natural smirk on her lips, as he responded to each unexpected crack through the air. The first few pops didn’t touch him at all, but then she carefully redirected her swing, so that the end of the tail would brush along his skin on return. The gag stifled his groans, his body jerking pleasantly at the contact.

“Now,” she began, trailing the whip across his bare back, “we’ll move onto the caning.”

She grabbed a long, slim length of rattan and slapped it against her hand, smiling at the subtle responses she observed in his body. He seemed to equally enjoy the physical and psychological forms of torture, which meant that their play was constantly evolving and never dull. It wasn’t that she was personally enjoying it of course, but just that it was a valuable experience for her professionally, to work with such a complicated sub.

She began with a warm up of light, quick taps across skin, focusing on his posterior and the backs of his thighs, which she absolutely did not observe as being especially well shaped, outside of a purely academic interest. His muscles shifted beneath the gentle rapping, each stroke landing on a different spot than the last. When finally he was warmed up, she flicked her wrist, snapping the cane against the curve of his backside.

He jerked, groaning, as she returned back to the rhythmic taps, until surprising him with another, harder thwack against his thighs. In the metal stockade, he had so little room to struggle that it was almost disappointing, because of how much fun it was… _wait, what? What a completely odd and ridiculous thing to think!_ She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it, the cane stilling in her grip.

She recovered quickly, dragging the flexible reed along his skin, until snapping it again. Fully warmed up now, and knowing just how much he loved more intense pain sensations, she pulled her arm back slightly, and _thwack_. The moment the cane made contact with his skin, she snapped it back, maximizing the sting.

 

 

It was incredible. The gentle slaps of the cane served as effective torture to rile him up, in between the unexpected, and varyingly intense strikes. The last hit stung immediately, but then was soon replaced by a radiating, almost burning, sort of heat. Was this what fire play felt like? He wanted more, but he couldn’t speak to tell her with the gag in his mouth. His tongue could barely move, saliva dripping down his chin, and yet the feeling was somehow delicious, the emptiness inside him filled.

He shuddered with each progressively harder strike, but had somehow transcended the pain. His head was light and floaty and there was nothing but the two of them in this space. She had complete control, his body, his mind, and even his very soul, humbled before her in absolute submission. He would’ve stayed like this for eternity, if only she’d have let him.

His eyes stayed closed when she pulled the blindfold off, not wanting to come back down to the world. Tiredly, he stretched his aching jaw when she carefully removed the gag, her fingers tenderly massaging out the tension. His neck fell slack when it was no longer held up by the collar, his body collapsing to the floor when finally freed of the restraints. He’d never been more relaxed, the coldness of the floor merely another sensation to him now.

She stroked his hair and soothed him, offering sweet praises about what a good boy he was, and how well he’d done, and he felt like a child again, innocent once more. His eyes slit open to see her smiling at him softly, and he hummed and nestled his head against her lap. When her thighs had become his pillow, he didn’t know, but even with the pain and stiffness, he’d never been more comfortable in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so when I said ‘eventually’ I apparently meant that Kyoko would appear as herself in the next chapter haha. So close, and yet so far, but at least there’s a link between them in their everyday lives now!
> 
> Also, I’m not super fond of the term ‘pet’, anybody got other ideas for a more personal sub nickname or two?
> 
> AND, I'll probably be delayed in updating because I'll be out of town Dec 8-16, and don't anticipate having much writing time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally seem to have overcome this writer’s block! Hopefully POV switching isn’t too confusing here.

His steps felt lighter, a relief he didn’t deserve allowing him to breathe easier than he had in years. Of course, he had to constantly train his features, lest Lory figure out that something in his life had changed, and go snooping. ‘Mom, Dad, I have weekly sessions with a Dominatrix’ was not a conversation he planned on ever having, at least not if he could help it. Some things, they were better off not knowing, even if he wasn’t actually ashamed of it. Rather, it was more that he felt like he _should_ feel ashamed, which lead him down the path of self-recrimination.

He was disgusting, wasn’t he? Pathetic and sick, and yet it all felt more incredible than he could ever have imagined. Being restrained and gagged and beaten, it was the single most pleasurable thing he’d ever experienced, and he’d have worshipped his Mistress if she let him. She was increasingly tender, and he was like a moth to the flame. Even if he ultimately wound up burned, the risk was worth it, and he’d happily be consumed by her fire.

He grabbed the briefcase from his car, and flipped through a folder, as he walked through the parking garage. A rather difficult client meeting on the agenda that afternoon, but the morning promised to be easy. There was a conference call with Yokohama just before lunch; that would probably go late. He could send Yashiro to get him something from the convenience store, which would solve that issue, but it felt like he was forgetting something…

 

 

She diligently listened to the instructions from the receptionist at the welcome desk, but somehow she got turned around. Why did there have to be so many names listed on the directory for this floor? Normally Chiori handled the deliveries, but doing it herself meant avoiding Moko-san’s warpath, at least temporarily. She’d calmed down a little, but it was going to take time before she stopped being angry, and it was better to give her some space until then.

“Who are you looking for, Miss?”

She spun around on her heels to face the tall woman, who’d just asked her the question.

“Yashiro Yukihito,” she explained, reading off her paper.

“Ah, Tsuruga-san’s assistant. Head left down this corridor, take a right, go to the end, and his office is all the way down on the left.”

“Thank you,” she bowed, grateful, bending as low as she could with the parcel in her hands.

“No problem. Have a nice day.”

She followed the directions and found the desk belonging to Yashiro Yukihito, at least according to the name placard, but its occupant was nowhere in sight. Since he hadn’t paid yet, she couldn’t just leave the order, and she did have other deliveries to make. Well, he was a repeat customer, so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad? Then again, Kanae would probably wring her hide if she found out, and the last thing she wanted to do was compound Moko-san’s ire. Not a difficult thing to do, in truth.  
  
A look at her phone told her that she didn’t have time to dally any longer, and so, with a deep breath to release her worry, she hesitantly placed down the bag of food, and walked back to the elevator. Maybe her luck was turning around, the doors were opening just as she walked up to them.

“Ground floor?” an oddly familiar voice asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she smiled politely, looking in the direction of the speaker.

 

 

Wide eyes stared up at him, her mouth agape. That was certainly not a typical response to his appearance. His brow furrowed slightly, giving her a quizzical look, before she flinched and immediately turned not just her head, but her entire body from him, as if recoiling from a terrible sight.

“Is everything alright?”

 _Mmmm_ , she hummed, her back still turned to him, and her face completely hidden behind short, copper hair. He couldn’t help but notice, however, a familiar logo on the back of her jacket.

“Have we met before?” he asked, curiosity growing inside him at the odd sense of familiarity he felt.

She shook her head vigorously, but still said nothing.

“My mistake then. I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

She hummed again, all but running as soon as the doors opened. He just stood, watching her leave, left dumbfounded by the exchange. There was something about that girl, that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it was probably best to let it go. Still, she obviously worked at the Love Me Cafe, and he had been there before, so could there be some connection he was missing? _Hmmm_ , he thought, _what is it with that place?_ Regardless, he had no plans of returning, no matter how much Yashiro seemed to like the food.

Recollecting himself, he hurried to the parking garage to retrieve the phone he’d carelessly forgotten, and emptied all the idle thoughts from his brain. He had an important call, and no business worrying about some girl he’d never met, from some cafe he was never going back to.

 

 

She stood, back leaning against the hard stone of the building’s exterior, once she realized he wasn’t following her. What kind of bizarre coincidence was that? _Wait,_ she wondered, _what if it wasn’t a coincidence? What if Moko-san was right?_ Was it possible that he’d somehow found out her real identity, and was playing a game with her? It didn’t seem like the kind of thing he would do, but what did she really know about him? Up until now, all he’d really given her was his first name, and that could’ve been a lie.

If he was toying with her, what should she do? She didn’t see any recognition in his eyes, but could he have been pretending? Thursday was just two days away, and then she’d have to face him. Should she cancel the session; make up some reason why she couldn’t be there, or should she use the opportunity to test him? Her life as Kyoko was supposed to be completely separate from her role as Setsu, and this was far too close for comfort. At least, since she knew where he worked, she could avoid any further such accidents, simply by having someone else handle the deliveries.

 

 

“Speak,” she ordered, closing her eyes and exhaling slowly.

“Yes, Mistress,” came the familiar words.

Her finger hovered a moment before pressing the buzzer to unlock the door, as she tried to calm the anxiety running through her nerves. She’d played the scenario over and over in her head, but it really did seem to be a coincidence. Still, she would only really feel confident when he was completely vulnerable before her. Once their session had begun, his eyes couldn’t lie to her, and when he was far gone enough, he’d have no secrets left. This talent of hers, to see inside people like she did, was what made her so good at her job, and why she was worth the price she charged.

She pressed her lips together, lightly shaking out her hair, and ran her fingers along her clothes to smooth any wrinkles. One last glance in the mirror to make sure everything was just right, and a little pinch on her fake lip ring to secure it, and she was ready for him. After waiting precisely 127 seconds, she opened the door.

 

 

The smirk on her face was positively feral, when she eyed him up and down appraisingly. Heat pooled in his abdomen, as excitement and darker urges flooded his mind. He didn’t know what she had in store for him, but he knew it was worth the week of waiting, and the anticipation was heady enough to leave him almost dizzy. She circled him, passing a hair's breadth away, as she pushed the door closed behind him. He stood stock still, not even breathing, as her body just barely brushed against him.

“And have you been a good boy since our last session?” she asked, with a dark glint in her eye that excited him.

He fought against the reflex to reach out and touch her, as a wicked grin overtook his face. With just a look, she could break his will, and he would savor every minute with her.  
  
“If I say no, will you punish me harder?” he teased.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” she clucked her tongue, taking his chin in her hand and moving it side to side. “Such a troublemaker you are. Whatever shall I do with you?”

She dropped her hold and turned from him, walking in her catlike way toward the implement table, fingers dragging enticingly along the edge.

“Anything you wish, Mistress.”

“Strip off your clothes and come here,” she instructed.

He obeyed eagerly, admiring the curve of her backside as he undressed, and wishing he could feel her body against him. She cast him a look over her shoulder, that if he didn’t know better, he’d swear was meant to seduce him. Hell, maybe it was, she did mean to torture him, after all. He strode confidently toward her, the nervousness and insecurity behind him now, and fell to his knees at her behest. Her eyes searched his face, and he looked up at her earnestly, too far gone to care if his open devotion made him pitiful in her estimation.

“Anything I wish?”

She lifted her leg, bending her knee, to place one high heeled boot on his shoulder. He kept his eyes trained on hers, ignoring the desire to look up her skirt.

“Yes, Mistress.”

She raised an eyebrow, and he felt increasingly like he was being tested.

“Lick my boot.”

He held her gaze, trying to read something unfamiliar in her eyes, and then angled his head to the side. He closed his eyes and took a breath, before bringing his mouth to the shiny, black pleather, and licking a trail from the top of her foot, to as far up as he could get without shifting one of their positions. When he finished, he daringly rested his head against her ankle, and met her eyes again. She looked at him a little softer now, and he guessed that his response had been a favorable one.

“Good boy,” she praised, removing her foot, much to his disappointment. “All I wish for is your absolute obedience and loyalty. So long as you uphold the terms of our contract, and respect me as you should, then I will be very pleased with you. Can you promise me you’ll do that?”

He wondered at her words, and if something had happened to make her doubt him, but that was a pledge he felt very comfortable making.

“Yes, Mistress,” he vowed, hoping he sounded as sincere as he felt.

 

 

Heaven help her, but she believed those words. Whether her judgment was colored by the strange fondness she felt for him, she couldn’t say, but there wasn’t any deception or hesitation in his eyes. He’d revealed enough of his tells, that she felt certain of when he was being dishonest, and this satisfied her doubts. What Moko-san thought didn’t matter, so long as she personally believed him, but why she let this come between them, she didn’t know. He was just a client, and Moko-san was her best friend. Still, she felt compelled to continue with his sessions.

It should’ve frightened her, and in some ways it did, but she told herself that it didn’t mean anything. There was nothing wrong with finding enjoyment in her work, and there didn’t need to be something deeper behind it. He was fun to play with, and they played well together; that’s all it was. Besides, she didn’t have time to worry about that, not when she had a submissive in desperate need of discipline.

“Hmmm,” she thought, biting the tip of her finger and dragging it slowly down her lower lip. “And what form of torment shall I employ today?”

She ran her hand along the implements, most of which they’d already tried; waiting for something to call out to her. By now, she had a strong understanding of what he liked and disliked, but she wanted to do something they hadn’t done before. She looked him over, tilting her head from side to side, and felt the smile curve up her lips when the thought struck her.

“Shall we try temperature torture?” she asked, already knowing his response.

He raised an eyebrow, returning her smile, and gave her that mischievous look she’d grown so familiar with.

“Yes, Mistress.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, such a dick place to end it, but it would’ve gone too long otherwise. So, how was their first run-in in their ‘normal’ lives? I know, not much, but soon it will be a regular thing. I might kind of skip over some of that, because lazy, but we’ll see what happens. Let’s be real though, who’s just waiting for me to hurry up and get to the smut already? xD
> 
> Anyway, I’ll try to get this next chapter out fast, so there isn’t a long wait for this one!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire, 2500+ word chapter, is ALL the session hahaha.

He lied with his back on the cushioned table, as she fastened the restraints around his wrists - just snug enough for him to feel, but not quite enough to dig in.

“How’s that, not too tight?”

“No, Mistress, it’s perfect.”

She hummed, almost a laugh, and moved to secure his ankles, her fingers trailing along his body as she went.

“We won’t use a gag today, but I think you’ll enjoy the blindfold. What do you say?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

He closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath, as he felt the thick fabric against his skin, and shutting out all light. There was nothing to fear in the darkness anymore, not when he had her to guide him safely through.

“I’m going to alternate between hot and cold sensations, progressively increasing the intensity. If anything feels too uncomfortable, tell me. Don’t forget to use your safewords if you need them.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“First, I’ll apply some oil, as a barrier against the wax.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, this was infinitely better, though it left him stunned in surprise. The feeling was strange at first, and took him a moment to realize exactly what was happening, as she used her bare hands to rub him down with warm oil.

 

 

He reacted immediately to her touch, muscles shifting beneath her fingers, and his back arching upwards. She felt his hip jerk slightly when she got near the band of his underwear, and had to stop herself from chuckling. He did have a very well sculpted body, she had to admit, and it did feel nice to touch, from a purely objective point of view. She felt the surprising strength in the lean muscles of his arms, the broad planes of his chest, and the smooth ridges of his abdominals.

Her eyes opened suddenly, freezing in place, when he let out a soft moan. Well, it _was_ very relaxing to massage someone with oil, not that she’d meant for it to end up as a massage, but it just felt natural, which didn’t mean anything. She turned from him, pointedly ignoring his obvious arousal, and readied her tools. Aside from the nearby safety equipment, a precaution in case anything went wrong, she kept two bowls of water, one hot and one cold, two large, pillar candles, a bowl of ice, and four metal spoons, on a small table beside her.

She placed two spoons in each bowl of water, and waited until they were ready. Testing the level of heat with her fingers, she placed the warm metal carefully against his wrist, and dragged it slowly up his arm. When she got to his shoulder, she swapped the spoon for a fresh one, and repeated the motion on his other side. He stilled, relaxing into the soothing warmth. With his guard down, it was the perfect time to reverse the sensation. His body tensed slightly, the cold metal against his skin a shocking contrast to the pleasant heat from before.

 

 

He could hardly believe what was happening, her hands wandering all over his upper body, massaging warm oil into his skin. This was a much greater torture than he anticipated, and he thought he was done for when she paused momentarily, but then she moved on, just as if nothing happened; ignoring the careless sound of pleasure he’d let escape. Was it possible she’d lost herself in what she was doing? But no, that was just wishful thinking on his part. The attraction was one sided, he knew that. She was a professional, and she was only doing her job, very, _very,_ well.

The warm metal was hardly a surprise after that, but the cold was sudden and startling, jolting him to full consciousness. He could feel the sensation linger slightly, but it was barely noticeable next to the intensity of where it actually touched him. The feeling was renewed when she began the second pass, but he was ready for it this time. Once finished, she paused for a moment, and he focused on what he could hear of her movements, wondering what she had in store for him next.

Warm liquid dripped onto his chest and then his stomach, little drops falling sporadically, and quickly solidifying as they cooled.

“Are you ready for increased intensity?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he urged.

The drips came faster, getting progressively warmer, until it just barely stung, and he was almost disappointed. Then, he felt the shock of ice, and he reflexively tensed and shifted, as tiny droplets of cold water trickled down his skin, following the trail she made along his body.

 

 

It was fun to watch him squirm like that, and she could feel the devious smirk on her face, but it would be even better on the next round. When the ice was really beginning to melt, and she could no longer stand the cold herself, she reached again for one of the candles. Just a few inches off his skin now, she tilted it to the side, letting a small stream splash onto his stomach.He jerked at the surprise, letting out a slight groan as he felt the little stab of heat.

“Too much?” she smiled, knowing full well that he enjoyed it.

“No, Mistress.”

“Such a good boy,” she teased, delighted by his eagerness.

She turned the candle completely upside down, so that the entire well spilled onto his waiting flesh. Part of her almost wanted to play with the wax on his skin as it cooled, and she shook her head, focusing on the task at hand. He writhed at the sensation, both in pain and pleasure, and she reached for the second candle. Next time, and she was absolutely certain he’d want to do this again, she’d need a lot more wax.

 

 

The pain was much stronger and sharper than before, but it faded quickly, replaced by a small, lingering ache, where the wax accumulated on his skin, which made it more sensitive. His back arched up from the table, shifting against the unyielding restraints, as she poured more of the molten liquid onto his stomach and chest. He knew that the ice was most likely coming next, and he braced himself, body stiffening, as he waited.

She chuckled softly, and he felt something cold and wet drip onto his chest. What was she planning? Suddenly, she flung little drops of freezing water all over him, and he shivered, twitching.

“Didn’t think I’d make it that easy, did you?” she laughed, placing a piece of ice onto his sternum.

He was so much more sensitive now, as he felt it slowly melt, cold water pooling on top of the wax, and traveling along his body. His mind was fully present, focused on the growing sting of the ice, concentrated on that one spot. Just as he was getting accustomed to the feeling, she placed another ice cube on his navel. He jerked upwards, and they both shifted, but she pushed them back in place.

“Unless you need to use a safe word,” she warned sternly, “you’re forbidden from moving.”

Instantly, he stilled, training his muscles not to respond, despite the increasing sting from the cold. It was a challenge, as she laid more ice cubes on his body, and he fought against an involuntary shudder, but was able to keep it isolated to just his right arm. No matter what, he could not disobey his Mistress; he had to please her, above all else.

 

 

He really was doing very well, and she felt something akin to a sort of pride. When she finally removed the cubes, he released a deep breath, but stiffened once again, uncertain if she was finished with him yet.

“It’s time to remove the wax now. Shall I be gentle, or should I make it painful?”

“Please, Mistress.”

She bent down to whisper in his ear, lips almost touching the skin, “Please, _what?”_

“Hurt me,” he begged, and she was only too happy to oblige.

“With _pleasure.”_

It was fun to tease him; she had to admit that, if nothing else. She palmed one of the wax play knives, and used it’s smooth curve to carefully peel up the less concentrated areas of wax, applying more pressure, and scraping the skin with a calculated amount of strength, as she pried up a thicker area. He’d groan softly when the metal dragged forcefully across his tender flesh, and she felt the urge to coax more of those sounds from him.

When most of the wax had been removed, she set down the knife, and placed her hands on his chest. First, she just traced her fingertips over him, causing a tiny tickle, as he trembled slightly, and then she curled her fingers in and pressed her nails into his skin.

 

 

She’d touched him more during this session than she ever had before, and he couldn’t get enough. It astounded him that she could torture him so tenderly, and it left his head swimming in a sea of her. He twitched, surprised at the feeling of her nails, and desperately eager for more. She scratched up and down his stomach and chest, fairly gentle at first, but then she got progressively more forceful, creating a delicious sting against his highly sensitized skin.

All kinds of dirty thoughts popped into his head, as she traveled up to his shoulders, his mind not even registering that she’d move to where there wasn’t any wax. She scraped harshly down his biceps and then his forearms, before stopping at his wrists, and working her way back up. So badly he wished to be free of the restraints; to shift himself so that she could reach more of him, but that would probably just have made her stop.

Her nails dug deeply into his sides, and he groaned, the sensation eliciting a strong response in his groin. Much to his surprise, she didn’t stop, scratching him even harder with the next pass; making him shudder. His hips jerked instinctively, and his teeth worried his bottom lip, almost drawing blood. He wondered if she liked to bite, as well as to scratch, and was anxious to experience it himself, as he played out various sexual fantasies in his mind. It was probably wrong, but he didn’t care anymore. It felt too good to stop.

 

 

What was she doing? This wasn’t a typical part of her services at all, and she could easily tell how much he was enjoying himself, writhing and moaning softly, as she tore at his skin with her nails. She removed wax with a blade, or plastic card, but never like this, at least not for so long or as intensely. Why did he bring this out in her, and more importantly, why did she allow it to happen? She wasn’t an amatuer, so where the hell was her control?

“Well,” she observed, her movements ceasing, and a little disappointed about it, “it looks like the wax is all off now.”

She wiped her hands on a towel, and gently removed the blindfold, ignoring the urge to run her hands through his hair. Normally, she’d trail her fingers down his skin before undoing the restraints, but she was almost afraid to touch him, aghast at the angry red marks that covered his torso and arms. He slowly opened his eyes, when his limbs were no longer confined, and peered up at her with a strange mix of emotions. She couldn’t meet his gaze, too guilty and confused to face him.

“Are you able to sit up?”

 _“Mmmm_ , I think so.”

His voice was weak, and she knew from experience not to believe him. Using her body to stabilize his was no big deal; she’d done it many times before, so why did she feel nervous?

 

 

She reached for him, hesitating. There was a thread he wanted to tug, but he didn’t have the cognizance to latch onto it just then. As soon as he was upright, he collapsed against her, his body a dead weight; his head resting comfortably on her shoulder. With his arousal diminished and his adrenaline tanked, he’d gladly have slept just like that, if he was able. She carefully laid him back down and told him to relax.

He kept his eyes closed, trying to stay conscious, and slowly sipped the juice she offered him. Food helped, she’d said before, but he only wanted it if she was feeding him herself, and he knew better than to say so. When he was finally up to sitting, he watched her as she busied herself, taking things to the sink, and clearing others out of the way. If he could stand, he’d have offered to help, but she’d probably just have told him not to worry.

“I’m going to apply some aloe, but I need you to stand first, because you can’t get too relaxed, alright?”

He nodded, stretching and rising to his feet.

“Now, there’s no real burns, but this will soothe your skin, and speed up the healing process. You should also reapply it yourself at least once a day.”

“And what if I don’t want the marks to fade?”

She let out a breath, smiling almost imperceptibly.

“Then I’ll be limited in the ways I can hurt you next week. You don’t want to deprive me, do you?”

With that, she finally met his eyes, giving him a look of challenge.

“Of course not, Mistress.”

“Good boy.”

 

 

Was she really just concerned about the damage, or did she actually want to touch him more? She breathed out through her nose, pushing those errant thoughts aside, and tentatively placed her hands on his stomach. The coolness of the aloe against the warmth of his skin was such a pleasant sensation, as she smoothed her fingers over the firm ridges of muscle. She could feel him tense slightly beneath her touch, twitching when she dragged her fingertips along the edge of his underwear; she didn’t know which one of them stopped breathing first.

She worked her way upwards to his chest and shoulders, and then to his arms. Even the areas that didn’t receive any wax were thoroughly marked. She could feel the heat rise up in her cheeks, and hoped the blush wouldn’t show through her makeup. Hazarding a glance upwards, she found him staring at her face, and his eyes locked on hers. Was she as red as she felt? Could he tell what she was thinking? This was _terrible._ She forced a small smile, and turned her focus back to what she was meant to be doing, picking up more product, to rub _briefly_ onto his arms.

“All done, you can get dressed now.”

She turned from him quickly, under the guise of wiping her hands, but really, she just didn’t want to face him.

“Thank you, Mistress, for taking such good care of me.”

Her mouth almost dropped at the obvious tease. Was he playing with her? Did he know? She’d do better in the future. This was totally unprofessional, and it wasn’t like her at all. She put on her best polite smile and turned to look up at him.

“Of course, it _is_ my job.”

He seemed to deflate some, which was good, and nodded in response, understanding her meaning. When he left, she gave him her practiced, platonic hug, just like she would any other client. He was, after all, just another client.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut yet, but definitely some UST! I think I’m starting to run out of material, and don’t want it to get too repetitive xD If you have any ideas, send them my way!
> 
> Next chapter they’ll be interacting as Tsuruga and Mogami, finally. After that, smut will *probably* be soon. This is me, after all haha. Bear in mind though, that it will probably be a lot dirtier than Deliver Me From Temptation. ANYWAY, thanks for reading, and especially for reviewing/commenting!!!!


	8. Chapter 8

Once he assumed the identity of Tsuruga Ren, he cut all personal ties, and kept his relationships purely professional. It worked for years, until he’d started seeing a dominatrix of all things, and now _this._ He’d only gone back to pay for the food left on Yashiro’s desk, but had somehow become a regular customer at the Love Me Cafe, familiar enough to be teased by the employees. Well, at least _one_ of the employees, and that was how he landed himself in this position, acting as a delivery driver for the day.

The silence between them, he and Mogami-san, the copper-haired woman he once shared an elevator with, was not a companionable one. She didn’t seem to be as antagonistic as Kotonami-san, either, and he’d seen her smiling happily and laughing with other customers. He could only conclude then, that for some inexplicable reason, she disliked him personally. Chiori-chan, who insisted he use her given name, had come up with the idea for him to offer his car, no doubt enjoying quite the laugh at their expense.

“Turn right at the next light,” she mumbled, the words barely audible.

“Alright.”

He still couldn’t quite put his finger on why she seemed so familiar to him, and he was starting to wonder if spending time around this woman was an act of masochism. The coffee at the cafe may have been high quality, but under normal circumstances, he’d have looked for another place that just as good, but more anonymous. Still, she’d turn her head quickly away from him sometimes, like he’d caught her looking his way, and it was so peculiar, that he kept being drawn back.

Despite her unfriendly treatment and obvious dislike, he still felt surprisingly comfortable around her, he realized, waiting in the car as she delivered a lunch order. It was strange, because he was normally so guarded around other people, and with her, he felt almost relaxed. It didn’t make any sense, and he needed to know why.

“There’s just one more, go up to 27th, and make a left.”

“Mogami-san?”

She cleared her throat, “what?”

“When you saw me in that elevator, I got the feeling we’d met before, and I-”

He glanced to the side to see if she was paying attention, but she just looked out the passenger window, resting her chin on her hand. It seemed pointless to say anymore, but then she sighed and shook her head.

“It, it’s not you, alright? Just _please,_ let it go.”

Her voice was small, and her tone almost painful. Honestly, it only served to deepen his curiosity, but he couldn’t press her further after such a request, no matter how much he wanted to. It wouldn’t necessarily stop him though, he’d just have to look for the information through an indirect route.

“I apologize, I won’t bring it up again.”

“Thank you.”

 

 

She felt so guilty treating him this way, especially when he was always so polite, but she didn’t want him to find out. If she spoke to him too much, or let him see her too clearly, then she was sure to be discovered. Even if he would probably keep her confidence, she didn’t want to take the risk, and exposing herself to him meant being vulnerable. There was no way she wanted them on equal footing, especially not when she was so attrac- er… well, when she held him in reasonably high esteem, _for a client._

It would be even better if he stopped coming to the cafe altogether, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him so. Not to mention, that would set off Moko-san’s suspicions, and she certainly wasn’t ready to spill the beans about him to her! No, he couldn’t find out that she was his Mistress, and Moko-san couldn’t find out that he was her _random_ client. The whole situation was getting uncomfortably complicated, and making her normally peaceful life a lot more stressful.

She muttered a word of thanks, chastising herself for such poor manners, and hastily exited the car, without looking back. Not just anyone would’ve helped her out like this, and she definitely owed him something, but what?

“Wait one minute, please.”

She ran inside the cafe and opened one of the coolers in the back. He didn’t have much of an appetite, or like things that were too sweet, but maybe...

“You don’t have to-”

“Just take it,” she insisted flatly, thrusting the paper bag in his direction.

“... tha-” he began, but she’d already made tracks to the door.

Once safely back inside the office, she collapsed into a chair, fanning herself with her hand.

“So, did you two have fun?”

She started, nearly jumping out of her skin.

“Chiori! Don’t, _wheeze,_ sneak up on me, _cough,_ like that!”

 _“Mmmm,”_ she pouted, resigned, “but that would take all the fun out of it, almost at least. What’s it like anyway, interacting with your hot sub outside of work?”

Her body moved faster than a person’s should’ve been capable of, clamping her hands over Chiori’s mouth.

_“SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”_

_“Mmmgrrhmm.”_

After a moment’s deliberation, she released her, unhappily.

“Don’t you dare say anything to Moko-san! And hey, wait, how did _you_ know?”

She smiled cheekily, raising her eyebrows, “you just told me! Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to old grouchypants. Besides, she’d just ruin the good time I’m having.”

“What exactly are you planning, Chiori?”

“Hmmm, me? Oh, you know, nothing much. How’s the delivery car anyway?”

She!!!!! She set her up!

“You sabotaged the car on purpose, and forced me to ride with him?!”

“Would I do a thing like that?” she simpered, putting a finger to her mouth.

“Yes, you absolutely would!”

“Well then, I guess you have your answer. Anyway, that’s the bell, gotta go wait on the customers! See ya, _boss.”_

That backstabbing little traitor had the nerve to wink at her, before slipping away, like it was all no big deal! A disaster, that’s what this was, a complete and total disaster. What the hell was she going to do with the mess on her hands? She wasn’t equipped to handle all this drama.

 

 

It was, he knew, a ridiculous move, but this puzzle was driving him crazy, and he could think of no other options. He took a breath, leaned against the kitchen counter, and dialed the phone.

“Love Me Cafe, how can I help you?”

Good, he recognized that voice.

“Chiori-chan, it’s Ren. I need to place a delivery.”

“You? That’s a first!” she began, suddenly lowering her voice, “anyway, what can I get you?”

“Uh, just a bento box, it doesn’t really matter what kind, not too big.”

She chuckled, “right, and where do you want that delivered?”

After making sure she got the address down correctly, he almost forgot the most important part.

“Will you be the one making the delivery?”

 _“Mmmm,”_ she hummed thoughtfully, “I’ll be expecting a handsome tip for the added service.”

“Understood, thank you.”

He sat on the couch, tapping his fingers impatiently on the arm as he waited. When the doorbell finally rang, he jumped to his feet, and had to force himself to slow down. Why was he in such a hurry? This whole thing was laughable, and he was an idiot.

“Wow,” she said by way of greeting, once the door was open, “nice place. Yours?”

“Thanks, yes. Do you want to come in?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

She slipped her shoes off and walked right past him, exploring, he assumed. It didn’t thrill him, but there was nothing for her to find, so he supposed there was no harm in it.

“Well that was a letdown,” she groused, plopping onto the couch.

“I’m sorry it doesn’t live up to your expectations, now about -”

She kneeled, her stomach resting against the backrest, and her elbows propped up on the top edge.

“You want to know why Kyoko treats you the way she does.”

Her knowing grin was starting to annoy him. Why did he get the feeling that she was just playing with him? He _really_ didn’t like it, but it didn’t look like he had much choice in the matter. She had leverage, and was using it to her advantage, but what exactly she was after, he didn’t know.

“Yes.”

“Well, I can’t tell you that,” she winked. “It’s more fun if you don’t know, and besides, those two would wring my neck if I did.”

So Kotonami-san was somehow involved in this as well, that was interesting.

“Alright, he smiled his gentleman’s smile, “then what _can_ you tell me?”

“Hmmm, a good question.”

She got up from the couch and stalked into the kitchen, coming back a moment later with a wooden spoon. He watched her with casual interest, not wanting to seem too eager, even if she likely knew that he was. She held the spoon in one hand, repeatedly smacking the other, with a loud thwack.

“It’s interesting, you know, what a different sound this makes,” she paused, hitting the top of a wooden end table, “when it makes contact with various surfaces. Wood, metal, _skin…_ just something to think about.”

She laid down the spoon and he narrowed his eyes, mild annoyance blossoming fully into irritation. She absolutely _was_ playing with him, and enjoying the hell out of herself while she was at it.

“Anyway, I’ve got to run back before I’m missed. That’ll be twenty thousand yen,” she explained, holding out her hand.

“For what? You haven’t give me anything.”

“Well, for starters, I never said that I would. It’s not my fault if you made that assumption all on your own. You’ll find out in time anyway, now pay up.”

He let out a harsh breath from his nose and opened his wallet, counting out the bills.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Ren-kun,” she mused, giving him a little wave before scampering off.

Of the three Love Me women, she was definitely the one he liked, and trusted, the least. Now, he was no closer to getting answers, and had nowhere else to turn. Kotonami-san was a dead end he knew, so where did that leave him? How did he become embroiled in this mess anyway, with those peculiar women, and their strange cafe, but more importantly, why did he have every intention of still going back? Whatever this was, it had definitely evolved beyond mere idle curiosity, that was plain.

 

 

He pushed open the door, bell chiming to announce his entrance, and walked up to the counter to place his order.

“Just a minute please,” a voice called from the backroom.

He double checked the time on his phone, already knowing that he was in no danger of being late, punctuality an integral part of his identity now.

“Oh, it’s you. Black coffee, I assume?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She gave him a sort of grunt in response, and he took his drink to a seat by the window. After what happened with Chiori-chan, he was a bit relieved to instead see Kotonami-san this afternoon, her trademark unfriendliness a welcome alternative to the Cheshire cat grin.

“Moko-san.”

He turned to the direction of the voice, seeing Mogami-san walk toward the front, carrying a rice paddle. She held it, absently tapping it against the palm of her free hand, the movement of her wrist hypnotic. He stared, mesmerized by the rhythm, and felt his eyes begin to close. At the sound of her voice, they shot open, wide and staring; dumbfounded by the realization.

“Could you help me when you have a minute?”

“Mo, I’ll be right there.”

His eyes locked onto hers for just a moment, Chiori-chan’s words playing over in his head, and he wondered how he never saw it before. She drew her brows together, her face questioning, and he gave her his best Tsuruga Ren smile, hoping she wouldn’t notice. The edges of her lips lifted perfunctorily in response, as she turned from him and went back to the kitchen. Her hair and eyes may have been different, but he knew how easy those things were to change.

The scales suddenly fell from his eyes, the confusion clearing as everything he didn’t understand before, suddenly made perfect sense. The problem was that he didn’t know what to do with the information, or where to go from there. If she truly was his Mistress, then that explained her reticence towards him; she obviously didn’t want to risk having her secret out in the open. Should he tell her then, or would she throw him out on his ear, immediately dissolving their contract?

He couldn’t approach her, especially not as Mogami-san, and during sessions, their dynamic would make such a conversation impossible. He wanted to submit to her, just like he was supposed to, but even if staying silent was an unforgivable breach of trust, how could he say anything? Maybe he was just mistaken anyway. Were the consequences of his honesty worth risking, when he could be wrong?

He wouldn’t see her as Setsu again for a couple of days, and he could spend that time thinking about his next course of action. For now, he sipped his coffee, watching the sun set over the tall buildings of the city, and wondered what exactly he should do. Lying to his Mistress was disobedience, even by omission, but potentially losing her seemed so much worse. His thoughts were a mess, and he seemed to be heading further down the rabbit hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW! Hopefully no one wanted more Kyoko POV because I was stuck for days trying to come up with something to include toward the end, and just gave up xD Also, I hope no one hates this Chiori too much haha. I haven’t decided yet if I want her to just be mischievous, or if I want her to actually be a little malicious. Either way, I'm having fun with her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of an angst warning for the end of this one.

Was he just imagining things, or did she seem excited to see him? He was trying to play it cool, as he searched her features for confirmation, but found himself getting caught up in that feline smirk, while he pictured her eyes as golden instead of grey. Once he was undressed, she took his hand and walked him to the implement table, and he closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of her touch. If he had his way, she’d never let go.

“And how shall I torture you today?” she teased, her breath tickling his shoulder.

He shuddered, knowing just how close she was, as he felt the heat of her mouth barely a whisper away from his skin. What did he want? She seemed to know what he enjoyed as well as if she was in his head, but she’d probably be repulsed if she could see his thoughts right now. He breathed out, letting go of the edge of bitterness, as he opened his eyes and looked over the contents of the table.

“What are my choices?” he asked, hoping she would expose some hint of her own preferences to him.

“You can have anything you want,” she purred, inching her fingers up his arm, “within reason, of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated, grinning as he turned his head to face her, and their eyes locked.

“So,” she cocked her head, jutting out her hip, “what do you want?”

Was she doing it on purpose, or was it actually unintental? This woman would be the death of him, and he’d savor every minute. The only problem was he could now see her as Mogami-san, and it was doing his head in. Should he say something? He should say something… but then she didn’t want him to know. Maybe it was better to let her have her secret.

“I don’t know,” he admitted after a pause, distracted by his thoughts.

 _“Tch,_ what is this? Suddenly I can no longer hold your focus? You’ve always been such a good boy, do you want to disappoint your Mistress now?”

“Of course not, Mistress.”

She walked a few paces away, looking back at him from over her shoulder; large eyes peered through dark lashes, as she pouted at him with those shiny, pink lips. He wanted to devour her, or maybe be devoured. He wasn’t sure which, but he’d never been so attracted anyone in his entire life. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and dropped to all fours, offering himself in submission.

“Come here,” she commanded, snapping her fingers and pointing to the floor, before turning her head away again.

Immediately, he obeyed, crawling towards her like the dog they both knew he was.

“Where I can see you.”

He moved until he was directly in front of her, and rested his forehead against the floor in a show of obeisance.

“Up,” she ordered, snapping again.

He rose to his knees, keeping his head bowed before her. She took a step toward him, taking hold of his chin, and lifted his head up. He kept his eyes lowered, waiting for permission to meet hers.

“Look at me.”

When he did, the playfulness was gone from her gaze, steely eyes boring into him, and leveling him with every ounce of her reproof. Did he manage to actually upset her, by letting himself get distracted, or was she merely playing her role? That had to be it, she didn’t care about this like he did - it didn’t mean anything to her. She pulled his face toward hers, until their noses were practically touching, and the breath caught in his throat. _This isn’t real,_ he reminded himself, trying to keep his head above the water.

“Do not _ever_ give me less than your full attention again, do I make myself absolutely clear?”

He could just barely feel her breath against his mouth. Would she feel his? Would she notice, even for the smallest second, how close their lips were?

“Yes, Mistress.”

 

 

This wasn’t good. First she let herself get actually annoyed that he wasn’t paying attention, and now their faces were practically touching, which meant she had to actively avoid thinking about his mouth. How did he do this to her, this man who just stumbled into her life, and seemed dead set on turning it upside down? Why did he have this kind of power over her? Whatever the reason, she didn’t like it one bit. She was the one in control here, and she needed to remember that.

“Tell me, how should I punish you for this indiscretion?”

She hoped he would give her some idea, to stop her mind from wandering. It was his fantasy she was supposed to bring to life, not her own. Still, he probably wouldn’t offer any suggestions, which would mean the responsibility of coming up with something fell to her, and…

“Whatever you deem appropriate, Mistress.”

His eyes twinkled with mischief, under the thin layer of guilt, and she knew exactly what to do.

“Shall I bind you with rope and suspend you from the ceiling?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She bit back the smile fighting its way to her face, a spark of pleasure alighting in her mind. He enjoyed pain, sensory deprivation, and bondage, but tonight she would tease him to the point of near breaking. Maybe it was alright to indulge herself _just a little,_ after all, where was the harm in it? Besides, it’s not like he wouldn’t enjoy himself, so really she was just doing her job...

 

 

She lead him to the padded area near the suspension winch, and rigged up a metal ring to the device, before grabbing several lengths of black rope from a nearby cabinet. Before starting, she cautioned him about nerve damage and circulation issues, and emphasized the importance of telling her if he experienced any localized tingling or numbness. The prospect of permanent nerve damage should’ve scared him, but he trusted her expertise implicitly.

“Since this is your first time, we’ll just do a basic suspension, but if you decide to make it a regular part of your sessions, then there’s all sorts of intricate ties we can experiment with.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

His breath was shallow and his chest tight, both nervous and anxious for what awaited him, and with the knowledge that he was about to be helpless in a way he’d never been before. Whether she intended to blindfold him or not he didn’t know, but whatever she planned to do, he had no objections. The wait, as she got everything ready, only served to heighten the anticipation, and he started to fidget, desperate for her to begin.

She stood before him, tilting her head to the side and looking directly into his eyes. Smiling at him reassuringly, she placed her hands on his shoulders and slid them down his arms to his wrists, and then turned him around, so that he was facing away from her. She brought his arms behind his back, with his elbows bent; each hand clasping the opposite forearm.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

He could feel the rope and her fingers dragging against his skin; creating an odd dichotomy of sensation, both smooth and rough, as she wrapped it around his wrists. He felt a tug as she tied the first knot, and his hands were thoroughly bound. Next, she brought the rope under his arm, bringing it across his chest, and wrapping it three times, with a knot in the front, before she secured it to the knot at his wrists.

His body began to relax, the urge to fidget gone, as his muscles flexed against the unyielding restraints. Her physical closeness intensified the sensation, as he was drawn fully into the present, and the world outside faded away. His eyes flew open, having not realized he closed them, when he felt her fingers along his hip. She smirked up at him wickedly, before bending down to get a better angle.

He watched her intensely as she wrapped a length of doubled rope around his hips, knotting it securely at the center front, before bringing it around behind him. He stopped breathing as her hands grazed the bottom of his ass, the rope wrapping around his upper thigh, and her fingers so close to brushing against him in a place he knew she’d never touch. If he shifted just slightly, she could feel his growing excitement for herself, but he knew where the line was drawn, and he wouldn’t forget, no matter how much he wanted to.

"How’s that, any pinching or numbness?”

“No, Mistress,”

“Good, then I’ll start tying the uplines. Tell me if you need me to stop at any time.”

His breathing was deeper, slower, as he relaxed into the comforting pressure of the ropes that bound him. She attached a doubled length to the tie around his chest, knotting it, threading it through the ring, and then knotting it again, leaving a long tail. Looking up at him cheekily, she did the same with the hip harness, tugging enough to make him jerk, as she knotted everything tightly. Finally, she placed a block at his feet, and had him step up onto it.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She placed a hand on his chest, looking him straight in the eyes, and then pushed him backwards. His body immediately went horizontal, his feet off the ground, and he jumped slightly in surprise, before sinking into the new sensation, and the deepening pressure of the ropes against his skin. Once he’d adjusted, and his breathing steadied, he realized she was standing between his legs.

 

 

She pulled the chest upline tighter, raising his torso, before knotting it again. Then, she trailed her hands up his stomach and across his chest; over his shoulders, and down his arms. It was hard to fight the smile, feeling his gaze upon her, as he watched her intently. Without ever looking at his face, and keeping her own expression placid, she slid her hands across his hips and down his legs, before finally stepping away and increasing the distance between them.

He let out of small sigh of disappointment, that she just barely heard, and she turned from him as the smile finally overtook her features. It was probably wrong how much she enjoyed the feel of his skin beneath her fingers, and how much she wanted to torment him with her teasing. Normally, she kept the line very clearly drawn, but with him, it seemed to blur. Why did this all feel so incredibly intimate, when normally it was nothing special?

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he drawled, voice heavy.

She checked the sensation in his hands and feet, and looked for any change in color, making sure that there was no danger.

“Shall I increase the intensity?”

 _“Mmmmm,”_ he hummed, lazily nodding.

She chuckled, raising the winch so that he was lifted further off the ground. He really was tall, almost shockingly so for a Japanese, which meant she had to raise him higher than was usually necessary. There was a particular thrill to dominating someone so much larger than she was, when many of her clients were a lot closer to her own height.

“Lean back and relax,” she instructed, and he did, closing his eyes.

 

 

He felt a tug on the rope at his chest, his upper body dropping suddenly, and his head fell backwards toward the floor. For a split second he reflexively tensed up, panicking, before he gave into the feeling. His equilibrium shifted, the pressure of being suspended transferred almost fully to his hips, and despite the bonds around his chest and wrists, it was surprising how freely he could move. It was euphoric, and he savored in the pull as he shifted his shoulders and spine.

His body swung gently as she completely released the rope holding up his chest, and spun him around, his head swimming as she held him in beautiful surrender. Her hands trailed down his thighs to his ankles, before she threw them upwards, crossing them once he was upside down. Everything became so much more intense, as the blood rushed to his brain. She dragged her fingers along his skin, spinning him lazily as she walked around him in a circle.

There was pain, but it was _so good,_ his head tilting side to side as he was overcome with the way he tingled all over. He didn’t know how long she left him like that, but he felt dizzy when she finally pulled him back to a horizontal position. His knees were bent and his feet dangling above the ground, when she lowered the winch to bring him back down.

“Do you feel alright?”

“Mmmm, _yesss.”_

 

 

Slowly and carefully, she started to untie the upline from the ring, letting his feet find the floor, but leaving him supported by the winch in case he couldn’t stand on his own. Once he was steady, she worked to unknot the line from his hip harness, her fingers skimming perilously close to the obvious bulge she was trying so hard not to stare at. Why did she want so badly to touch him, to feel him?

She held him steady once he was loose, with a solid grip on his shoulders. Stepping backwards, her foot slipped, and she went down, unable to catch herself. She accidentally pulled with her, and he landed on top of her, nearly knocking the wind out of her. With his hands still bound behind his back, he couldn’t get up on his own, and he was dead weight. Worse, was that she could feel him, hard and pressing against her, and she liked it. Mercifully, he didn’t say a word, or move a muscle.

“Are you hurt at all?”

“No, Mistress.”

His voice was a little breathy, but there was no teasing, which was a relief.

“I’m going to roll, so move with me, and watch out for your hands, alright?”

“Alright.”

She shifted her body for leverage, and threw him over as gently as she could, but the momentum was more than she anticipated and she ended up right on top of him. At least, all she had to do was get up, and they could both pretend this never happened. She shifted, which turned out to be a dangerous move while straddling his hips, and his erection rubbed right against her center. She let out a soft moan, her hips rolling instinctively, before she practically jumped off him. That was _not okay,_ none of this was okay! What the hell was she thinking?

 

 

His eyes went wide at the sound, her body positioned so perfectly against him that he thought he must be a dreaming, and when she rolled her hips, he was done for. A thousand times he’d imagined it, but having her physically there was infinitely better. The moment she practically flew off him, reality suddenly came crashing back, and he was horrified. Was there something he could’ve done to prevent this from happening? It didn’t matter, because even if no one was really at fault, her reaction said everything he needed to know.

He rotated to the side and then threw his body into a seated position, before shifting onto his knees. As much as he wanted to fix what happened, it seemed better to say nothing, lest he make the situation worse. She stood with her back to him, leaning over a table with a white-knuckle grip, and his heart fell into his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, “I’ll untie you.”

She shook herself and walked over, kneeling behind him; her eyes looking in every direction but his. The rope fell to the floor once she was done, and he massaged his wrists, slowly unbending his elbows and stretching out his shoulders. It felt like losing the embrace of a lover, which crashed his mood even harder, as he dreaded what he knew was coming.

“Do you mind?” she asked, angling her head down.

“No, of course.”

He flexed his fingers, feeling the blood circulating properly again, and noticed the impression marks on his wrists. How long would they last, he wondered, wishing they were permanent. He clumsily toyed with the knots at his hips, until finally he was able to undo them. Once he was free he looked up, her outstretched arm holding a glass of juice for him. He hesitated a moment before taking it, and then forced it down.

“Please get dressed, when you feel up to it.”

She left him there, the care she normally showed him forgotten, as he watched her wrestling with her thoughts. He didn’t blame her; he understood all too well how she must’ve felt. His hands balled into fists, nails biting into the flesh of his palms, and his jaw tightened into a hard line. He just had to make it through another ten minutes, and then he could let his face fall.

He got to his feet, letting out a deep breath to steel himself, and then retrieved his clothes. She offered him a chair, but he couldn’t bear to sit, so they both stayed standing. It must’ve been a few minutes before she spoke, but time seemed distorted and he wasn’t sure how long the silence dragged on. It was better and worse than hearing her say the words.

“I’m sorry, but I need to dissolve our contract.”

It felt like he’d just been punched by a bear, the impact swift and sudden, even though he braced himself for it.

“I understand.”

“Believe me, I _am_ sorry. Especially so abruptly like this, and neglecting your aftercare… It’s extremely unprofessional, and this whole thing is my fault, but I just _can’t._ I’m so sorry, and of course, I’ll direct you to someone who can take over for me, so that you’re not left hanging.”

The irony of those words didn’t escape either of them, as she turned her head and grimaced, and he stifled a bitter laugh.

“I don’t want anyone else,” he admitted, already knowing it was futile.

“You think that now, but after you get used to them-”

“Moga-” he began, interrupting her, before he shook his head, stopping himself. “It doesn’t matter. If… if you ever change your mind…”

It didn’t matter that it was pathetic and pointless, because he _needed_ to tell her, but before he could finish, the words died in his throat.He looked at her, hoping she would meet his gaze, and as though she could read his thoughts, she did. Were her eyes wet, or was he just imagining it? He smiled at her sadly, wishing she’d hug him one last time, but he was too afraid to ask.

“Goodbye, Ren.”

He closed his eyes, nodding; knowing that was the last time he’d ever hear her say his name, and, in what was the decision he regretted second most in his life, he walked away. Funny that only now, when he was cast out of her life, could he actually admit his feelings. He loved her, but she’d never love him back, which was fair, because he didn’t deserve her anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! I honestly didn’t intend for things to go that way. I planned something totally different, but this is what ended up happening. It’s impossible for me to not write super unhealthy characters that handle everything horribly, and it being Kyoko and Ren probably makes it worse. At least it got a tiny bit smutty?  
> This is going to probably get soooo much worse, and as much as I hate the trope of everyone into BDSM being messed up, these two people are pretty psychologically damaged. Just be ready for a super not good, healthy, or positive relationship dynamic, with probably a lot of smut. I don’t think I know how to do anything else tbh xD


	10. Chapter 10

She kept expecting him to show up at the cafe, but it’d been weeks, and there was no sign of him. It wasn’t like she missed him, of course, she was just concerned, _in a purely professional capacity._ He used to be there nearly every day, and since he didn’t know that Mogami Kyoko and Mistress Setsu were the same person, it didn’t make sense that he’d suddenly stop coming in.

“Looking for someone?”

She jumped, spinning around.

“Chiori! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I called your name, _twice.”_

“Uh-ahem, well, I guess I didn’t hear you,” she mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly.

“Clearly. You’re thinking about him, huh?”

“About who?” she asked, playing dumb, as she grabbed a rag and wiped off the counter for the third time in the space of five minutes.

Chiori rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hips, “so, still in denial, I see.”

“In denial about what?” Kanae asked, stepping out from the back room.

“About her ho-”

“Nothing!!” she yelled, clamping her hands over Chiori’s traitorous mouth. “Hahaha, our Chiori, always _teasing,_ what a kidder!

“Mmgrrbrrmm.”

Struggle as she might, there was no way in hell Kyoko was letting go now.

“It’s nice that you’re such good friends, who trust each other enough to keep secrets.”

“Mmmmooooko-saaan!” she yelled, letting go of Chiori and waving her arms wildly, “I didn’t tell her anything, she figured it out on her own!”

“Oh really,” Kanae huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “and what, exactly, did she figure out?”

 _Shit._ She saw Chiori scamper away to the kitchen, ginning like the cheshire cat, but Moko-san was a more pressing concern. Being kept out of a secret like this probably made her jealous, and of course, she could never admit to that. Kyoko couldn’t fault her though, her own emotional responses not exactly being the healthiest either.

“Moko-sama,” she bowed deeply, “please forgive your humble servant.”

“Tch, sama am I now? How convenient.”

“I didn’t tell you, because I knew you’d be angry with me.”

“Mo, what the hell kind of excuse is that?!”

She bit her lip, pouting, “a really, really bad one.”

“You’re damn right it is! Friendship means being honest with each other, or do you not remember that?”

“... I do,” she whined.

“Then, you’d better start fucking talking, Kyoko, or _so help me.”_

She paled, heaving out a colossal sigh, and hazarded a glance upward, finding herself trapped in Kanae’s piercing glare. There was really no way to avoid it now, unless she wanted to create a bigger rift between them, but did she _have_ to tell her everything? That thinking was horrible, she knew, but some things she wasn’t ready to say out loud to anyone, lest she be forced to admit them to herself.

“You were right about my sub, the sessions were a mistake.”

“Are you alright? What happened?”

She thought about letting Kanae draw her own conclusions, but she couldn’t let her think badly of Ren; it just wasn’t right. No, she’d wronged him enough without throwing him under the bus to save herself. The trust, in assuming that she couldn’t possibly be culpable, stung more than anything, and she wondered if she’d ever get back the respect she was about to lose. She’d fully expected an ‘I told you so’, and not hearing it was so much worse.

“It wasn’t him, it… it was me.”

Kanae’s brows creased in confusion, and she clenched her fists, taking a deep breath.

“I got too personal, and let things go too far. It’s my fault, Moko-san,” she cried, clutching her chest, “I knew better, but I did it anyway! You’re probably disgusted with me now, and I don’t ever want to speak to me again, but I’m sorry, and I learned my lesson.”

 _Thump._ She looked up, rubbing her head where Kanae chopped her, and was taken aback by the softness in her best friend’s eyes.

“You’re an idiot, but it’s okay, I already knew that. Why would I be disappointed now?”

“You,” she sniffed, “you mean you’re not upset with me?”

“I’m upset that you didn’t talk to me. You think it’s the first time this kind of thing has happened, you dummy? It’s totally normal.”

She breathed out a sigh, feeling a little better, and a whole lot worse.

“So, has it ever happened to you?”

She clasped her hands together, her eyes widening with the faintest glimmer of hope.

“Are you kidding? Of course not!”

Kyoko deflated immediately, and Kanae put a hand up, her mouth hanging open, realizing what she’d just said, and backpedaling for dear life.

“You’re different from me, you _care._ It’s not necessarily a bad thing, you just have to exercise caution.”

She bowed her head in acknowledgement.

“And anyway, someone with _your_ experience should be able to bounce back quickly.”

Her face fell, the subtle suggestion that she was still wet behind the ears, cutting deeply. It was justified though, for someone with her years in the industry, to have made such a rookie mistake. Deep down, she’d known what was happening, and she’d chosen to ignore it, over what, pride? Being reprimanded was exactly what she needed, and now she could -

“You’re not going to see him anymore, are you?”

She shook her head, biting her lips.

“I ended our sessions; the contract has been dissolved.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Kyoko.”

There was an edge of censure, which was warranted given the circumstances, but for some reason, she didn’t want to say the words. It felt as though voicing them would give them a weight that she wasn't ready to burden herself with. Even if she couldn’t admit it, she didn’t want this to be the end.

 

 

“Ren, are you listening to me?”

“Huh? Oh, of course, Yashiro. What it is?”

A gloved index finger pushed his glasses up his nose, as he leveled Ren with an accusatory stare.

“You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said.”

Ren smiled winningly, instead of scowling like he wanted to. Last night had been rough, and he wasn’t having the best day. It was unusual for him to be distracted like this, but even a momentary lapse in behavior wasn’t permissible. How was he supposed to prove his capabilities, when he’d allowed his personal life affect his work. There was no excuse, and it couldn’t happen again. Someone his age needed to have better control of his emotions.

“I am sorry,” he offered sincerely, bowing his head, “could we please start again?”

“I don't suppose there's any use in asking about it, so I probably have no choice but to pretend there's nothing going on.”

Ren just smiled even brighter, “It really is nothing. Last night I didn't sleep very well, so I'm a little overtired.”

 _“You,”_ he remarked, incredulous, “who comes in early, leaves late, and regularly functions on less than four hours of sleep per night?”

“What can I say?” he shrugged, “maybe it’s finally catching up with me.”

“It would serve you right, you know.”

“That's probably true,” he chuckled.

 

 

When he got back to his apartment, the first thing he did was head straight for the liquor cabinet. He poured three fingers of whiskey, and downed it in a single gulp, enjoying the burn in his throat, and the resultant warmth in his stomach. He shifted the glass in his hand, the ice cubes clinking as they slid back and forth. It was little things, ways to pull himself out of his thoughts, but then they’d shift to somewhere else, so much better, and so much worse.

He sat on the couch, head leaned back against the cushions and eyes closed, as the memory overtook him. He could still feel it, shivering beneath her touch, as she traced random patterns on his body with the slowly melting ice. Her fingers were always so warm, grazing his skin, and creating such an odd sensation in the places he’d gone numb from the cold. What he wouldn’t give to feel nothing now, when the darkness she’d once made safe, was trying to devour him whole.

He was an idiot he knew, holding onto the delusion, though he’d long accepted the truth. It was better this way, his being alone. Lingering around her at the cafe would’ve been a violation of her boundaries, and he’d grown too familiar with the place anyway. There were a hundred other shops to get his coffee from, without stolen glances and teasing from the staff. No, this really was for the best.

It’s not like she’d have let him get closer to her, or as close as he wanted to get. Besides, even if she did, he was not only unworthy of her comfort, but ultimately, he would’ve just dragged her down with him. Had he somehow forgotten? He wasn’t allowed to have anyone, and just because it was a one-sided fiction, nothing had changed. She was better off without him, and it was her good fortune that she wouldn’t have to see him again.

 

 

Kyoko should’ve been mad that Chiori was shirking her duties, but running around the city with food deliveries _was_ a great way to keep her mind occupied. Part of her wondered for the briefest moment if maybe it was her way of helping, but then Kyoko realized her only intention was probably self-serving. She shook her head, wondering what they were going to do with that girl, before the door opened and she jump back, letting out a loud squeak.

 _Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit!!!!_ What was _he_ doing here?! Well obviously he probably lived here, but what was he... had he just been getting deliveries instead of coming in? But why would he do that if he didn’t know who she was? His wide eyes and open mouth seemed to indicate that he was just as surprised to see her as she was him, so it didn’t seem like a set up, but... _Chiori!_ She clenched her fist, crushing a tiny Chiori figment into dust in her palm.

“Mogami-san,” he began, hesitating, “what brings you here?”

She lifted the delivery bag up so he could clearly see it, while she stared at the floor, fighting the urge to look him over.

“But I didn’t… _Chiori-chan,”_ he realized, drawing the exact same conclusion she did.

“Haha, I guess she got us both, that Chiori…” she laughed, voice strained as she rubbed the back of her neck, leaning her head to the side and trying her hardest to smile.

“Excuse me please, I need to get my wallet.”

“No, that’s okay. You don’t have to - just... consider it hazard pay.”

“That’s alright, I don’t mind.”

“Tsuruga-san,” she insisted, her voice firm as she finally raised her head to look at him, a much easier thing with his back to her. _“I mind.”_

“... alright, Mogami-san.”

He turned to face her and she caught his eyes, deep, brown pools that she could feel herself being pulled into, and it felt like she was liable to drown if she did. She didn’t know how long they stood like that, frozen, him half sideways, and her holding the bag of food. The air seemed to be sucked out the room, and her heart beat furiously, hammering inside her chest. Still, she couldn’t help noticing there seemed to be bags under his eyes, and did he seem thinner?

“Are you… how… how have you been?” she asked awkwardly, shifting her weight back and forth. “You haven’t been to the cafe for some time.

 

 

“I’ve just been busy,” he lied, smiling his best gentleman’s smile, and pulling his arms to his chest, so that he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out to her.

“Oh, of course, I see. Well, I… I don’t want to keep you. I hope… you enjoy the bento.”

“Yes, thank you. I’m sure I will.”

She nodded, a little emphatically, handing him the food, and then rushed out the door.

“Goodnight,” she called, from the hallway.

“Goodnight,” he whispered after her, knowing she couldn’t hear him.

He’d be lying if he said part of him wasn’t thrilled to see her, but seeing her again only made it hurt worse, because he had to watch her leave his life forever, for the second time. He pushed the door closed and leaned his back against the smooth, metal surface, sliding slowly to the floor. He clutched the bag to his chest, struggling to breathe as the air was strangled in his lungs. Better, he told himself, it was better this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... at least they got to see each other?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More hurt, I’m sorry, but comfort is coming really soon! Also, this wasn’t proofread as well as it should’ve been, so apologies in advance!

Time passed, and he was growing accustomed to his new normal. Whether the pain was less, or he was just better at ignoring it, was immaterial. He got a script of sleeping pills to help with the dreams, and at least his nights were more restful, even if he still woke up feeling like hell, and in a cold sweat, on too many mornings. Sometimes he’d see Chiori making deliveries in the office, but as long as he kept his door and blinds shut around lunch, he was able to mitigate that particular problem, for the most part anyway.

“Come in,” he called, responding to the knock at his door, and hoping it wasn’t who he thought it was.

“Long time no see,” she greeted, showing off a sweet, little simper he knew better than to think was real.

 _“Chiori-chan,”_ he paled, sitting up in his chair, “how can I help you?”

“It’s boring you know, how you’re both the same; playing dumb like this.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” he smiled, folding his hands across the desk.

“Funny, that’s just what she says. Apparently neither of you are very good at lying.”

She flexed her hand, looking at her fingernails dismissively, and he tamped down on the anger building inside him. What the hell game was she playing, and why couldn’t she just leave him alone? Was this her thing, did she get off on poking him where he was tender?

“If you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

“I do mind actually,” she informed him, pushing the door shut and moving closer.

He got to his feet, guard going up immediately, as he watched her, uncertain.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” she teased, sliding her fingers under the lapel of his jacket.

“Afraid is not what I’m feeling.”

His eyes grew hard, and his smile positively feral, as he hoped she would take the hint and back off. Instead, she pressed her palms to his chest, looking up at him with her head tilted to the side.

“The look on your face is really too funny,” she laughed tartly, disentangling herself. “It must be pretty boring if you’re this serious all the time, or is there another side you only show to _her?”_

She winked, and his blood was boiling.

“Please leave,” he breathed, his voice edged with anger.

“This is the thanks I get for trying to help, really, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“The only thing I want from you, _Amamiya-san,_ is to be left alone.”

“Be careful what you wish for, _Ren-chan,”_ she winked, finally making her exit.

He gripped the edge of his desk tight enough to turn his knuckles white, and let out a low growl, before straightening his jacket and tie, after she’d mussed them up. His fingers smoothed over the wrinkles in the expensive fabric, stopping abruptly when he felt the edge of something strange sticking out from his pocket - a folded piece of paper he knew he shouldn’t open. Still, he couldn’t help himself, compelled by a desperate urge that would not be repressed. Written inside was a phone number, with the words _‘Don’t fuck it up, Chiori’._

 

 

Things were _fine._ Moko-san had forgiven her finally, and her routine was back to normal, even if she now had a vacant slot on Thursdays, that she couldn’t quite bring herself to fill. That was fine though, free time was good! There was never enough, right? Of course, if she didn’t stay constantly busy, then she was liable to start _thinking,_ and that was not fine. That was the complete and polar opposite of fine. That was everything that fine was _not,_ but as long as she didn’t do that, _she was fine._ Everything was fine.

“Kyoko!”

“Huh, yes?”

She spun around quickly, to see Chiori pouting up at her, with a look that twisted her stomach into a knot. There was no doubt in her mind, that little reprobate was busy scheming something, and probably at her expense.

“I’m really not feeling well, you know, do you think you could handle these deliveries for me?”

Running deliveries would keep her distracted for a while...

“Yeah, I guess I co- hey, wait! Let me see the list.”

“You’re a lot less fun than you used to be, _boss.”_

“Coming from you, that sounds like a compliment,” Kanae interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Deliveries _are_ your responsibility, aren’t they? If you don’t want to do your job, no one’s forcing you to work here.”

“Moko-san, there’s no need to be so drastic!”

“No, Kyoko, let her go ahead and get it all out.”

“I really don’t think you want me to do that, _Chiori.”_

“Oh no? And why is that?”

She thought the intensity of their combined tempers might cause the cafe to burst into flames around them, and she wiped a hand down her face before reluctantly placing herself between them.

“Enough!”

“Whatever,” Chiori dismissed, rolling her eyes and letting out an impressive huff, before snatching up the delivery orders and leaving.

“You let her get away with way too much, you know. Am I going to have to step in every time?”

“Me? What about you? If you keep antagonizing her like this, she might actually leave!”

“Mo, don’t be so dramatic. She has nowhere else to go, and besides, who else would put up with her attitude?”

“Would admitting that you care about Chiori really be the worst thing?”

“Don’t _you_ start now, you’re lucky I’m even speaking to you.”

“I know, Moko-san, I know! I’m just hoping that you’ll forgive Chiori, like you’ve forgiven me.”

Kanae scoffed and rolled her eyes, causing Kyoko to stifle a laugh. Despite their differences, they really did have a lot in common, and in a way, the three of them were almost like sisters. She smiled wide at the thought, her eyes going dreamy, as she imagined the three of them skipping together hand in hand through a lush, open meadow, as birdsong was carried by the gentle, spring breeze…

“Whatever syrupy delusion you’re experiencing right now, I don’t want any part in it.”

“You say that, but you haven’t seen how beautiful it can be!”

“I’m going to the back. Don’t talk to me again until you’ve checked back into reality… not that that’s very likely, or you were ever there in the first place. Honestly, I don’t know why I even bother, and you’re not even listening anyway. Mo, sometimes I think you might be even worse than she is.”

Kanae would never admit to smiling when her back was turned, and she’d have died before letting Kyoko actually see it.

 

 

It always started with the sound of screeching tires, followed by a woman screaming. The blood pooled on the ground, moving quickly towards him; a puddle forming under his feet. Steadily, it would move up his legs, as it turned into a deep body of thick, black liquid, eager to engulf him. His chest was heavy, so much that he could barely breathe; like there was a weight pressing down upon his ribs. The words played over in his head like a chant, _You killed him. Murderer._ Tina’s face that night burned into his retinas, as he stared unseeing at the lifeless body of his only friend in the world.

He shot upwards in bed, the sheets sticking to his skin as he coughed, gasping desperately for air. Was it getting worse? He started to choke as the water, from the glass on his nightstand, hit his airway, scattering tiny droplets onto the bed. His free hand gripped the blanket for dear life, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to lie back down, though getting up wasn’t an option either. The nightmares should’ve calmed down by now, at least a little, but then, this punishment was the very least he should be made to suffer.

 _Tsuruga Ren,_ he thought, a small, bitter smile curving up his lips, _what a joke you are._ He could lie to the world, but did he really think he could lie to himself? And that girl, did he think he could just keep lying to her? Like she wouldn’t have run from him if she ever saw his real face, _Kuon’s_ face. Did he think he was allowed to have anything, when he took everything from Rick? What right did he have to even entertain that fantasy? _Pathetic._ The word stung, striking him with the unforgiving accuracy of the truth.

He wanted to argue; to offer some kind of protest, but he knew Kuon was right. No matter what kind of gentlemanly disguise he wore, he would always be a monster underneath. It was especially cruel, being taunted by himself, to dial the phone number he’d been too cowardly to throw away. It was a mistake, still trying to hold on, but he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it. _It’s probably fake anyway, another of Amamiya-san’s pranks._ But what if it wasn’t? What if he was that close to hearing her voice? _Fool,_ he chastised himself, _how pitiful can you be?_

She didn’t want to talk to him, did he not remember? And what, he was going to call her because he had a bad dream? Was he a little kid, running to his mother? What right did he have to seek her comfort? She owed him nothing, and that’s exactly what he deserved.

 

 

She shifted from her back to her side, and then to her stomach, hoping that changing positions would allow unconsciousness to finally overtake her. It was getting really bothersome, this difficulty in falling asleep, but it was still better than the dreams she kept having far too often. _Stupid brain,_ she scowled, poking her index finger into the side of her head, _why do you want me to suffer like this?_ Maybe there was some kind of advanced meditation technique she could use to distract herself in her sleep. She’d have to look into it!

A deep breath in and then out, to clear her mind, before she went over the events of the day, and steered herself firmly away from any more precarious trains of thought, that were only too easy to get swept up by. She wouldn’t think of the warmth of a certain person’s skin beneath her fingers, as she tied and tortured him, or how she wanted to bite his lips when he’d give her one of those wicked grins... She wouldn’t think about him at all, because she didn’t miss him, and she didn’t miss him, because he didn’t mean anything to her. _Nothing at all._

She didn’t remember drifting off, but she came to groggy, woken by the sound of her phone ringing. She glanced at the clock, 12:17, who would be calling at that hour? The ID was private, so she should probably ignore it, but maybe it was important… what if there was some kind of emergency?

“Mmm, hello?” she grumbled, voice thick with sleep.

The person on the other end said nothing, but she could hear the faint sound of breathing.

“Hello? Is this a prank call? I’m hanging up if you don’t say something.”

 _“Please,”_ came the reply, a barely audible whisper.

Her heart thumped, snapping her fully conscious. There was something so familiar in that voice, but it couldn’t possibly be him. Why would he be calling her, especially on her personal phone?

“Please,” he repeated, shaky, but with a little more strength.

What was wrong, was he crying?

“Hold on,” she entreated, “I’m on my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to have lost some readers since this took a continued turn into sad-ville haha ah well, it’s all I know how to do xD Thank you to those who’ve stuck with me, we’ll get through this together <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, time for some comfort!

Standing in front of his door, her finger hovering over the buzzer, she was starting to rethink this whole thing. His tone was so desperate that she'd raced over, still in her pajamas, because of what was probably an overreaction on her part. How was she supposed to explain the reason for her visit? He called her as Mogami Kyoko, and not Mistress Setsu, so what did that mean? Where did he get her number anyway? What if he wasn't even the one who called her, and she was about to wake him up? What if he wasn’t even home? In the end, nothing overcame her need to know that he was alright.

After a small delay, the door cracked opened fractionally, and she hesitated, the stiffness of fear coiling through her limbs. She took a deep breath, pushing it further open, but there was only the light from the corridor to interrupt the pervading darkness beyond the threshold. Turning on her phone's flashlight, she braced herself and stepped inside.

She found him slumped over against the wall next to the door, sheet-white, and with hair plastered to his face. She dropped immediately to her knees and reached out to him, but he showed no sign of reaction. He was cold and rigid, and her mouth went dry as she checked for a pulse. It was silly she knew, because he must’ve just opened the door, but she couldn’t help herself. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she dragged her hand across his forehead, pushing his hair out of the way.

“I'm here, it's alright, I'm here.”

She didn't get a response, but she wasn't expecting one, as she wrapped her arms around him and settled into his side as close as she could. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but she didn't care.

“You're alright,” she cooed, hoping some part of him was registering her words.

This wasn’t her responsibility, she knew that. What she should’ve done was to call an ambulance, and leave him in the hands of trained professionals. It would’ve been reasonable to fear for her own safety, if he came to, confused and violent. Even knowing all that though, she just stayed there, holding him. He was unresponsive for a long time, and then she felt a small twitch, his shoulders shifting slightly, before his arms reached around and pulled her into him. With the odd angles, and differences in their heights, the position was awkward, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I'm here, you're safe,” she promised, rubbing soothing circles against his skin. “Come back to me, I'm waiting for you.”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, low and raspy, “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, everything's okay now, shhh.”

He gripped her even tighter, and he began to shake, tears dripping onto her hair and shoulder.

“But it's my fault... _I killed him.”_

She should've fled, terrified, but her heart just broke for him. Was it possible that he really murdered someone, or did he just blame himself for their death? If this is what made him so afraid of the dark, why did he have all the lights off? Even the brightness of the city outside should’ve helped, but he must’ve had blackout curtains covering the windows. Was this a way to punish himself, since she was no longer there to do it for him, or had he become more comfortable with the darkness because of their sessions, and now that they’d ended...

Even though she knew in the abstract that it wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t help but feel responsible.

“Where are you?” she whispered.

“I don’t know.”

She shifted to free her arms, first wiping the tears from his face, and then covering his eyes with her hands.

“You’re with me, safe and sound, just like in my dungeon. Nothing can hurt you here, I’ve got you.”

 

 

He focused on the sound of her voice, and the grounding weight of her body. There was something so reassuring about the way she covered his eyes, somehow pulling him back to reality, and out of the darkness inside his soul. He still struggled to breathe, his chest tight and his head pounding, probably from lack of air, but the relief was immense and incredible.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was rough and tired, but he hoped that his sincerity came through. Calling her had been a moment of weakness, but the fact that she actually came all the way here just for him, it proved he didn’t deserve her. Still, he wasn’t strong enough to refuse her comfort, especially since it was the last of it he’d probably ever have.

“Shhhh, there’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re not alone anymore, everything’s fine.”

It really was. She’d made him feel safe again, and chased away the encroaching abyss, but eventually she would leave him again, and he couldn’t call her next time. As much as he wanted to, it wasn’t right, or fair. She didn’t owe him this; hadn’t even been paid for this. He knew well he was asking for too much, but could he stop himself without her posing an objection?

“You don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine.”

He loosened his grip on her, realizing how tightly he was holding on, and how uncomfortable she must’ve been in that position. She moved to kneeling, and his arms fell away, prepared for her to get up. Instead, she leaned her forehead against his, her hands still pressed gently over his eyes.

“I don’t mind, I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

He almost told her he wanted her to stay forever, but he swallowed down the words, and all his feelings. For however long this lasted, he would enjoy it, all those familiar sensations coming back to him.

“Thank you, Mogami-san.”

It was a risk, but he wanted to know how she’d react. He heard her let out a heavy breath from her nose, and she chuckled slightly.

“I was hoping you’d keep pretending not to know, honestly,” she admitted in a whisper, finally pulling her hands and face away.

He opened his eyes, but it didn’t matter, it was much too dark to see her expression. Maybe it was better that way, even if he desperately wanted to look at her.

“I can from this point on, if you’d prefer.”

“I think it’s a little late for that now, but... thank you for keeping my secret.”

“You don’t have to worry, Mistress, I would never tell anyone.”

“I know,” she breathed, her voice almost too small to hear.

 

 

This was getting uncomfortably intimate, their being so open with each other, and she didn’t know how to handle the situation. As Setsu, she could easily navigate these waters, but as Kyoko, this was rough and unfamiliar territory. Without the power dynamic in play, they stood on equal footing, and that terrified her. Instead of interacting with him as a character, engineered to fulfill his fantasies, she had to face him as herself, and she had no idea how to do that.

“I don’t… know what I’m doing,” she confessed.

“You’ve done enough honestly, you don’t have to stay.”

She let out a deep breath, shaking her head. It just made things more difficult when he encouraged her to leave, not just because she knew that’s probably what she should do, but because she felt overwhelmingly inclined not to. The impulse was one that was probably best left ignored, but she was already here, so what did it matter if she stayed a little longer?

“I know, but I will. How are you feeling? You should probably try to stretch out your legs, after sitting that way for so long.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fi- ahhh,” he hissed in pain.

She reached out on instinct, her hand brushing his face. They both froze, and she slowly traced his cheek with the back of her fingers. It was so strange, how the impregnable darkness all around them made her feel so safe, and so uneasy, at the same time. He leaned into her touch, and they stayed that way for a while, neither of them saying a word. Was he as confused by the whole situation as she was? She didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you able to stand? If you feeling up to it, you should take a quick bath or shower before getting back into bed.”

 

 

He probably looked as miserable as he felt, which made him thankful to be obscured by the lack of light, even though he knew she didn’t see him in that way. Still, it would’ve been nice to see her properly, not only because this would be the last time, but because he’d never seen her as Mogami-san outside of work. When he realized she was in what were probably pajamas, the knife of guilt twisted deeper. She’d probably gotten out of bed just to come here, and had done so without even getting dressed.

She was so much kinder to him than he deserved, and the least he could do was get up. He pushed off the ground with his palms, shifting onto his knees. His head was spinning a little, but he’d experienced worse. He braced himself with one hand against the wall, and then she reached out to him, and he stopped breathing.

“You can lean on me if you need to.”

Did she have any idea how much those words hurt? He blinked hard, fighting against the sting at the back of his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he lied, but let part of himself sink into her, because he couldn’t hold himself back.

She didn’t even suggest turning on the lights, holding her phone as a flashlight ahead of them, as they made their way to his bedroom. When they got to the door, would she leave? Would she wait until he was tucked back into bed? Would she stay until he fell asleep? What would hurt the least? The most? He didn’t know which he preferred.

“Are you steady enough to stand on your own?”

He nodded his head, his body working on autopilot. She asked if he had a change of sheets, he did. Where were fresh pajamas? He told her. She sent him to get cleaned up, like he was a child, while she fixed the bed. His protests were useless, but that was how it worked, right? Whatever order she gave him, he’d obey. It felt nice, so familiar and comfortable, and he didn’t want it to ever stop.

 

 

What was she doing? Was she out of her mind? Moko-san was going to murder her to death when she found out, but it was like some kind of forcefield prevented her from leaving. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep, and she was becoming delirious, leaving her brain vulnerable to the dream thoughts she’d never willingly admit to having. She was torn between making up the bed and fleeing, and taking the opportunity to snoop around his apartment. The fact that he could be done showering any minute, and that she was also pretty tired, was thankfully enough to keep the impulse in check.

She instinctively breathed in the scent of the sheets, and then threw her arms as far away from her face as she could. This was absolutely terrible. Just as soon as she made sure he was okay, she needed to leave. She should’ve just run out the door right then, but she couldn’t abandon him when he was in such a fraught emotional state, and even though she knew she shouldn’t blame herself, she couldn’t help feeling responsible. _Old habits die hard,_ she thought, a bitter smile finding her face, before she shook her head to chase away the memory.

The bed was so soft and inviting, as she crawled across it to straighten the blanket, which made her realize just how exhausted she really was. She couldn’t have been sleeping long when she got the call, and it was already past two. By the time she got home it would probably be at least three, and she didn’t even want to think about that, or the cost of these ridiculously soft pillows. She couldn’t help pressing her face into one, just to test, just for a second. It was even better than she imagined, snuggling her check against the fabric.

 

 

The water pelted angrily against his skin, burning away the bits of grime that stained his soul, at least temporarily. He placed his palms against the tiled walls, hanging his head, as he tried not to think about how close and how far he was from Mogami-san. How easily he forgot his guilt when she was involved; at least he wouldn’t be able to do that for much longer. Was she even still there? He was afraid to find out. Intrusive thoughts clawed at his mind, dark voices giving him terrible ideas. His hand reached for the faucet, raising the water temperature until his flesh was nearly scalding.

He listened for sound outside the bathroom door, but heard nothing. There was a light on in the bedroom, though that wasn’t really an indication that she was still there. He padded slowly across the soft carpet, his eyes trained on the floor, for fear that she gone. When he got to the edge of the bed, he finally lifted them to scan the room, and it felt like his heart stopped beating. His jaw dropped open when he saw her lying there, asleep, _in his bed._

He couldn’t breathe, terrified of moving a single muscle, in case she’d wake up. But it was wrong, wasn’t it, to leave her there? If he let her sleep, and she found herself still in his apartment in the morning, would that be worse? He wanted to freeze this moment, to have time stay stuck like this forever, so that he never had to watch her walk away again. For just a little while he waited, memorizing the peaceful expression on her face, and how her hair looked, mussed from sleeping.

“Mogami-san.”

When she didn’t respond, he called her name again, a little louder. She hummed and shifted positions, and he didn’t think he could take much more. He reached a hand out tentatively, holding it still in midair, too afraid to touch her.

“Mogami-san,” he repeated once more.

This time she dragged a hand up her face, her eyes slitting open.

 _“What?”_ she groused, voice heavy with sleep.

“You fell asleep in my bed.”

 _“Mmmm,_ yess, it’s so soft.”

Her eyes closed again, her lips curving into a small smile. Was she trying to kill him?

“You can stay here if you’d like, but I thought you might want to leave.”

“I’ll just stay until you fall asleep,” she mumbled.

Did she just? No, there was no way she meant what those words implied.

“Alright, I’m going to sleep now, I’ll be in the guest room if you need anything.”

He turned to leave, but she grabbed hold of his arm.

“Stay.”

“It’s okay, I’ll be right down the hall. You’re too tired to know what you’re saying.”

She opened her eyes fully and looked up at him, making his heart pound with impressive force.

“No,” she insisted, “I’m not. Go to sleep.”

Without saying a word, she rolled over, effectively ending the conversation. In a daze, he turned off the light and climbed into bed, carefully keeping a polite distance away. His head was still pounding, and now his emotions were an even bigger mess. Could he fall asleep with her next to him, knowing she might be gone when he woke up? For her sake, he’d try, and if that didn’t work, then he’d pretend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, they're sleeping in the same bed. No big. Nothing to see here, nothing at all.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super NSFW, and the end might be kind of disjointed because the last 500 or so words were written like a month or so after the earlier parts :/

She came to groggy, waking from a dream that left her more frustrated than well rested, but she was almost used to it now. Still, she felt so comfortable, nestling into the warmth that cradled her, as she tried to drive those thoughts from her mind. She shifted, the arms around her stomach gripping tighter, and her eyes shot open. _Shit shit shit shit shit,_ she cursed silently, wondering how the hell she was going to escape this alive, as she she vividly recalled ordering him into bed with her.

The steady breathing behind her at least assured her that he was still asleep, so maybe there was a chance she could sneak away. That was probably a wrong thing to do, but especially after last night, and then waking up in his bed, with his arms around her... She absolutely, positively, one hundred percent, could not face him now. She could, however, steal just one, teeny, tiny peek at his sleeping face. He looked so peaceful that she couldn’t help smiling, and immediately forced herself to stop once she realized she was. This was not good.

Slowly, carefully, she tried to pry off his arms, but he gave a soft, sleepy groan, and rolled closer to her. She froze, the hardness suddenly pressing against her serving as a strong reminder of just how frustrated she actually was, as the memory of him beneath her flooded her brain. Her mouth had gone dry, so much that she couldn’t seem to produce any sounds from it, and there was probably no way he’d let go without waking up. She pressed her eyes shut tightly, released a breath through her nose, and reminded herself that she absolutely had to do this.

First, she considered yanking on his hair, and while he might’ve enjoyed that while conscious, it seemed unnecessarily inconsiderate under the circumstances. Reaching back with the arm not half underneath her, she tapped him tentatively on the shoulder. He responded by letting out a hum and nuzzling against her hair. Next she gripped his arm, trying not to enjoy the feel of the firm muscles beneath his smooth skin, before curling her fingers so that her nails pressed in.

This time he let out a little moan, his hips rocking into her, and the hands on her abdomen began to perilously shift. She squeezed her thighs together as firmly as she could, biting her lip hard and scratching him more forcefully. When she heard his breathing stop, and felt his body go stiff, she didn’t know if she was more relieved or disappointed. After a moment, he loosened his hold on her and shifted his hips to the side, so that his erection was no longer rubbing against her.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, the words coiling through her like guilt.

He meant it, which made her feel like shit, because she wasn’t sorry at all, even if she wasn’t capable of admitting it to herself.

“Don’t speak,” she whispered, horrified at the words coming out of her own mouth, “unless you want to safe word out."

 

 

Was he losing his mind, and this was all just a delusion, or was he still asleep and dreaming? He couldn’t think of any other explanation that made sense, because there was no way in hell any of of this would ever actually happen. His chest was so tight he couldn’t breathe; his heart beating so fast he thought it might explode. She placed her hand over his, guiding it up to her breast, but surprise or fear kept him from moving. When she arched her back and pushed against him, he finally worked up the nerve to respond.

He gently squeezed, massaging with his fingers; eliciting a gasp when his thumb dragged across her nipple. Was this really happening? Was he actually fondling Mogami-san, his _Mistress?_ She gripped his upper arm again, her nails biting harshly into his skin. He was throbbing, so hard it nearly ached, but he was frozen. How much, exactly, was he permitted to do? Without her command, any advance seemed like a liberty he wasn’t right to take, but she told him not to speak.

Her hand snaked up his shoulder to his neck, before twisting into his hair and yanking hard. He growled, his control beginning to fray at the edges. Ignoring the stiffness in the arm she was lying on, he pulled her body flush to his. He should’ve been worried about taking things too far, but he was flustered enough to overcome his fear. She reacted immediately, rotating her hips to get a better angle, and grinding her ass against him. His eyes fluttered closed, a powerful pulse shooting through him, and he didn’t notice his hand had stopped moving.

Once again she was forced to guide him, and his hips jerked involuntarily, when she directed his hand beneath the waistband of her pants. He ran his nose along the shell of her ear, scraping his teeth gently across the skin, as his fingers found her center. She was so wet he could’ve cum right then, and the urge to bite her neck was overwhelming. He rubbed two fingers over her clit and she bucked, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth, to stifle the moans he desperately wanted to hear.

Did she know what she was doing to him? He was going crazy, the feel of her writhing against him so much better than in his fantasies, but was this really okay? He hooked his fingers and slid them inside her, thrusting up and in, as his thumb worked over her clit. Her hips rocked against him while he built her up, fighting his own completion, as her movements became increasingly sporadic. He sped up his pace, pushing into her harder and faster, until she cried out, unable to stifle the sound.

Her nails dug punishingly into his flesh and he clenched his jaw, trying to keep his last shred of control from breaking. She panted, her legs shaking as she approached the edge, and her walls clenching around his fingers when she finally climaxed. He allowed himself to let go at last, groaning against her shoulder as he came, with his fingers still inside her. She lazily patted his arm and he collapsed against her, completely spent.

 

 

The little aftershocks tingled through her otherwise limp body, that his very clever fingers had just turned into a quivering mess . She should’ve cared, but she couldn’t, too busy floating in a sea of marshmallow bliss. Drowning there would’ve suited her just fine, so that her brain was too made of mush to think. She could deal with the wrongness of it all later, if she absolutely had to, which she probably did, because she wasn’t lucky enough for it to be a dream.

It was kind of a relief though, someone with his obvious experience probably had no trouble with casual, no-strings attached, pretend it never happened, can’t tell anyone ever, sex. It was silly to worry that it meant anything to him. Even if he was holding her so affectionately that it made her uncomfortable, with his face buried in the crook of her neck. That didn’t have to mean anything. It was entirely possible that he was just a cuddly sort of person. She really, _really_ hoped he was, because if not, this disaster would end up being even bigger than it already was.

Should she try to excuse herself to the bathroom, or stay there, in his arms? After that performance, it seemed only fair to let him at least enjoy the afterglow, before fleeing from his apartment for dear life. Even if she _was_ going further out of her mind with every passing minute, trapped by the heavy weight of his body on hers. At least until he started to stir, and she felt him hardening again, but there was no way she could... It would be wrong, wouldn’t it? This was all a horrible mistake, she _knew_ that, even if it felt fucking incredible.

She rolled her hips against him and felt his breath hitch, hot on her neck. One of his hands reached down to palm her ass, squeezing, as he pulled her closer into him and then spread her legs. She bit her lip as his hand dragged down to her knee, lifting her leg higher as he tilted his hips into her, so she could feel him pressing hard against her center. They hadn’t even taken off their clothes yet, and she was already aching to have him inside her. She reached between them, trying to free him from his pants, when he stopped her.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he explained.

She hazarded a glance, looking at him for the first time since he’d woken up, completely incredulous.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s been… a long time,” he admitted quietly, was he _blushing?_

 _For me too,_ she thought, letting out a harsh breath. She couldn’t possibly admit that to him though, lest things become even more intimate than they already were. Where exactly did that leave them then, and was he being honest with her? Someone like him, how was that possible, even with his trust issues. Not that she blamed him for that really, but maybe it wasn’t such a stretch. Did that mean this _did_ mean something? Was it wrong of her to hope it didn’t, just because she was unable to handle those feelings?

“Should we stop?”

“Only if you want to,” he breathed, tickling the skin behind her ear.

“I’m not… worried about _me._ I... didn’t think that this was...”

“You don’t have to worry,” he assured her, “I’m well aware of what this is and _what it isn’t.”_

There was a hint of darkness in his tone, the words sounding like an indecent promise that she desperately wanted him to fulfill. Was he really okay with it, or was he just pretending to make her feel better? She didn’t want to know, no matter how bad of a person it made her.

 

 

He wasn’t stupid, he knew well that this was just physical, at least for her. That didn’t stop her rejection from hurting like hell, a jagged blade twisting into his chest, but he’d known from the beginning that it was coming. She’d already given him far more than he could’ve hoped for, and he was grateful, even if the only thing she wanted was his body. It was better than nothing, he reasoned, eager to drown out the dissenting thoughts with the sounds she would make, when he made her cum a second time. Was she really willing to go further though, to allow him inside her?

“Hold on,” he pleaded, grinding one more time against her center.

There was no way he could let go now, especially over something so small. Carefully setting her leg down, he reached for the nightstand and grabbed his phone. His fingers tapped furiously across the screen, as though mere seconds mattered, when he’d be lucky to wait less than half an hour. She didn’t say a word, or even move, while he placed the order, and he hoped the moment wasn’t broken. If this was all he could have, then he wanted to make it last as long as possible.

“Maybe we should stop.”

He pressed his eyes shut and quietly let out a harsh breath. Making her leave terrified him more than anything, but how could he convince her to stay? Where was the limit, and how close was he to stepping over it?

“If you don’t want this, I won’t say another word, but if you’re worried about me, you don’t have to.”

“I feel like I’m taking advantage,” she admitted, pushing the knife in deeper.

“You’re not,” he insisted.

Was it his hesitation that gave her pause? It would’ve been easier to act if he wasn’t so petrified of doing something wrong, and scaring her off. Worse still, was the risk of letting his feelings show. He didn’t know the moves to this game, and trying to maintain a precarious balance left him questioning every step he took. Should he wait for her to act, giving him directions every time, or was he supposed to be more proactive?

 

 

He rolled over to face her, and she placed her palm against his chest to hold him back. No matter how much she wanted him, it was wrong, and she knew it. He didn’t say anything, waiting for her to respond, but she was too much of a coward to speak. When she finally worked up the courage to look at him, hoping the excuse she needed would be written on his face, she realized she’d made a huge mistake. Before that moment, she’d never known an expression could be so sexually charged, his dark eyes burning into her soul and depriving her of reason.

Her pulse spiked, burning heat pooling in her belly and shooting straight between her legs. She wanted to turn away but she couldn’t, as she tried and failed to stop the corners of her lips from curving upwards into a smirk. The fingers on his chest curled inwards, her nails pressing into his skin, and he smiled back at her like some kind of emperor of the night. That grin was obscene, holding back all the indecent promises ready to spill from his lips. Her thoughts raced with all the filthy things he could do to her, until she forgot why she was supposed to say no.

 _“Mistress,”_ he whispered.

She squeezed her thighs together, desperate for some friction.

_“Yes.”_

It was supposed to be a question, but it sounded more like a plea, her voice tiny. She’d have been embarrassed if she wasn’t so worked up, but she couldn't think beyond the overwhelming need to touch him. Her nails left a trail of angry red marks as she dragged them down his body, stopping to play with the hem of his pants. His muscles tensed as she teased him, but he didn’t move, waiting to see what she would do. That was how it worked right, she was supposed to take the lead? Except she wasn’t Setsu right now, and Mogami Kyoko would never do this.

She wanted to go back to the position they were in before, where she could face away from him and not feel so exposed. Tilting her head to the side, she closed her eyes, and palmed him through the silky fabric. He pushed against her hand and she gently squeezed, as his nose traced a path up her neck. She should’ve fled right then, while she still had a chance, recoiling from the intimacy of his touch. He seemed to read her mind, his hand deftly working beneath her waistband, and tugging on the elastic.

 

 

“Mistress,” he whispered against her skin. “May I taste you?”

She bit her lip, eyes still closed, and nodded after a moment’s deliberation. She lifted her hips so he could pull her pants down, and he tried not to notice how she kept refusing to look at him. Still, he was damned already anyway, and she was really letting him do this, so he’d use the opportunity to the best of his advantage. If he could satisfy her enough to where she’d desire his touch, then maybe he could hold onto her a little longer. That slim hope was all that kept him going.

He dragged the fabric slowly down her legs, chuckling to himself as she fidgeted in frustrated impatience. The pants he discarded, as he grabbed beneath her knees, and pulled her forcefully to the edge of the bed. She tensed, jumping slightly in surprise, before he pushed her legs apart. His heart beat furiously, as he towed perilously close to crossing the line, and he knew he had to act without having a chance to properly admire her. There was no taking things slowly now, not when it meant giving her an opportunity to change her mind.

She looked so beautiful splayed out before him, squirming as his lips grazed her inner thigh. He smiled to himself, before licking a path up her center. She wriggled, moaning softly, and tried to stifle the sound with that obtrusive hand of hers. He parted her lips wide with his fingers, licking once more before slipping his tongue inside her. Her hips bucked against each little thrust, and he lost himself in the perfect taste of her, until she was practically fucking his face..

He could never tell her exactly how much she affected him, because he’d definitely lose her forever. Part of him wished his name would pass her lips in a moment of ecstasy, but what would it matter, the name that wasn’t really his? Even now doubt was clawing at his mind, and he thrust harder, his tongue working faster, desperately hoping the sounds she made would drown out the intrusive thoughts that were always trying to bury him alive.

 

 

She whimpered when his tongue slid out to flick her clit, and moaned loudly when he sucked it into his mouth. Two fingers slid easily inside her, moving increasingly harder and faster, as his tongue worked against her clit. She could feel his eyes, fixed on her face, but she wasn’t brave enough to meet them. It was so much easier to just pretend; to give into the pleasure he gave her, as her back arched and her fists bunched into the sheets. He overtook all her senses, and she felt like she was drowning in the frenetic atmosphere, her whole body trembling.

It didn’t matter that it was wrong or selfish or even unprofessional. His fingers and his mouth had taken over all her senses, and she couldn’t hold on much longer. The sensation was almost too much, too strong, but she couldn’t fight it. She found herself completely lost in the overwhelming pressure, building her up higher and higher, heedless of the indecent sounds spilling from her mouth. He set her nerves on fire, tingling all over, until she suddenly tensed before everything exploded inside her.

It felt like she was floating, her every molecule made of air, weightless. Her eyes fluttered shut in sweet and perfect surrender, the kisses pressed to her ankle barely registering as her thoughts all drifted helplessly away. She lied there, blissful, the world too far away to interfere, while she basked in the afterglow. Consequences? She couldn’t have possibly cared less right then. None of it mattered. The sound of the doorbell, and his assurance that he’d be right back, none of it could reach her. She hadn’t yet returned to earth, and she never wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for the wait. I’ve been under a mountain of stress, and it’s given me horrible writer’s block. Hopefully I can get back into the swing of things soon. Infinite thanks to Daamile for all her help and support, and thank you everyone for reading! <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comfort, and then smut, so now it should be angst, right? Exposition ahead, full steam ahoy! Mind any errors, this wasn’t proofread too thoroughly.

He tried to right his clothes enough to be somewhat presentable for answering the door, but a 24 hour courier delivering a box of condoms probably knew what to expect. It was getting uncomfortable, still wearing his soiled pants, and now that he’d left the room, he was almost afraid to go back inside. How would she look at him? What did she think about all this? Would he see regret or disgust in her eyes? He couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Keeping his footfalls as silent as possible, he peered around the door frame to get a glimpse of her. She was lying still on the bed, with her eyes closed, and he breathed a sigh of relief. His grip tightened on the package he carried, a bitter smile finding his face. It was never going to go farther than that, and it was probably for the best anyway. He’d gotten to touch her; to taste her, and that was already far more than he deserved. To be greedier than that, even he wasn't that foolish.

He knew what this was, wasn’t that what he told her? Then why did it feel like something was pressing against his chest and trying to claw its way beneath his ribs? He crept into the bathroom and closed the door as quietly as possible, discarding his clothes on the floor. She’d be gone when he was done, he knew that, but he needed to rid his mind of that knowledge. All he wanted was to wrap his arms around her, so that she was caged in his embrace and could never leave him, but he had no right to do so. She didn’t belong to him, and she never would.

His body jerked when the spray hit him, uncomfortably cold, especially on his more sensitive parts. He pressed his forehead to the tiles, warm in comparison to the water rushing down his back. It was miserable, leaving him agitated and shivering, but at least it worked to calm his libido. He’d throw the condoms away when he was done, otherwise it would just be another reminder of her. Not that he could forget. How long could he go without washing his sheets, to preserve the scent of her in his bed? He shook his head scornfully, fully cognizant of just how pathetic he was.

The knocking startled him, but it couldn’t have been real. Was he so messed up in the head now that he was hallucinating? _You’re alone, just like you deserve to be,_ he thought, clenching his jaw tighter.

“What are you doing?”

He was frozen stiff, unable to summon the motivation to turn his head and look. It couldn’t have been real, her worried voice. It was all just his imagination, but suddenly the water was warm, and small, strong arms were wrapping around him.

 

 

She’d been feeling extremely guilty, and when she cracked the door open, this was the farthest thing from what she’d imagined finding. It was shocking, her reaction immediate and reflexive, throwing open the shower door, turning up the freezing temperature, and trying to warm him with her body heat. Had he been standing under that ice cold water the whole time? What was he thinking? Was he thinking at all?

Worry overcame her better senses, the desire to make certain he was alright stronger than the concern she should've felt for herself and her ability to handle the situation. This wasn't her responsibility, and she didn't owe him anything no matter how obligated she felt about her negligence. And it _was_ only obligation, wasn't it? That was what compelled her to show up at his door in the first place. There was definitely no other possible motivation, right? If that was true, then what exactly was she doing?

If he got used to this, depending on her, then the carefully set boundaries of their established relationship would blur, possibly deteriorating completely. She couldn't be his crutch or his therapist, they weren't even friends. Her inner Moko reminded her that this wasn't her job, and she wasn't being paid for it to begin with. The flesh and blood version would be disappointed in her for not being more cavalier, but she'd come to truly care about him and regardless of anything else, she couldn't persuade herself to walk away.

She rubbed her hands up and down his arms, hoping the friction would get his blood moving faster. He was unresponsive at first, as still as a statue, and it frightened her, but his heart beat steadily. Once he was warm again, she placed her hands over his, resting her head against his upper back. When finally he moved, she was almost startled by it, shifting his arms so that their palms were pressed together, their fingers interlacing. Was this okay?

"Why?"

His voice was small, quiet, and at first she wasn't sure if she'd just imagined it.

"Why what?"

"Why are you here?"

Did he want her to leave? What should she say? What _could_ she say? She did just walk in on someone in the shower uninvited, even if the circumstances had made it seem permissible. Why _was_ she there though? He'd given her the perfect opportunity to escape without awkward excuses, and that was probably his intention, she realized. The thing was that she didn't know herself, and she probably only made things more confusing when she decided to stick around.

"I don't know," she admitted, surprised by her own candor.

"Oh."

He didn't sound disappointed, more like he was just acknowledging her response. There didn't appear to be much of any emotion in his voice at all, and he went back to not moving, their hands still clasped only because her grip held them together. He felt far away, and she wasn't entirely sure that she'd be able to reach him. Outside of her role as Setsu, which she wasn't currently playing, this wasn't something Mogami Kyoko was equipped to deal with.

 

 

He'd been vaguely aware of the sensation as the cold water pelted against his skin, but it was almost like experiencing it secondhand. His body felt like it'd been replaced by a clay golem, and though he could make it talk and move, these actions all felt alien to him. How was he supposed to behave in this situation? What physical or verbal response was appropriate and correct? It was something he knew that he should know, but he couldn't remember it.

A tear slipped from his right eye, though he didn't understand the reason for it. Maybe it was just a stray drop of water from the shower, and he was merely mistaken. There'd been this overwhelming weight of emotion bearing down and crushing him, and the burden of carrying it was mercifully lifted. Nothing mattered now, or felt real. There was no gravity to the situation, the reservoir of his personhood depleted. Emptiness was peaceful. A relief.

"Ren."

The false name, one he was meant to respond to - the thing he pretended to be while hiding his real self behind a carefully constructed mask. He was supposed to answer, that was what she expected, but it was a difficult thing to do when he knew she'd try to pull him back to where everything was so hard and hurt so much. Would he want that, if he was capable of wanting things? It seemed illogical, but it sounded like him, probably. Should he reply with her name? What name was he meant to use? Maybe something else was better.

"Yes."

It wasn't a question so much as a confirmation, even if not an entirely accurate one. There was really a lot involved in being a person, and the complicated machinations seemed so pointless to him now. She moved both of their arms, his resting on top of hers as she hugged his waist, squeezing gently at first and then applying more pressure. Her hands followed suit, gripping his tighter. Everything about her was warm and real, but she would only leave again. He knew how much that would hurt, but it was supposed to, wasn't it?

That she couldn't see his face was a small mercy. He had little doubt pain was etched in his expression, and he didn't have the energy to fake a smile for her sake. Not that she expected that of him, so he supposed it was really more for his benefit, not having to expose even more of himself to this woman that always left him so vulnerable. Did she know the power she had over him? Did she care?

 

 

Where did they go from here? How long were they going to stay in the shower? The sun would be up soon if it wasn't already, and there were things she needed to do later. Not to mention, she'd need to go home to eat and change before anything else. Even knowing all that, why didn't she feel the urgency of time passing? Why was it so comfortable, leaning into the warmth of his tall frame as she held him close? The intimacy of the action should've spurred her into fleeing, but she didn't. She wanted to stay.

He finally showed some sign of returning to himself, his fingers gripping hers back, as he pulled her arms tighter around him, pushing her body even closer into his. She could hear his heartbeat, with her cheek pressed against his skin, the steady and reassuring thump-thump, thump-thump starting to speed up. It was such a relief and she couldn’t help but smile, letting out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Mistress, I -“

She gave his hands a small squeeze.

“I’m just glad you’re back, you don’t need to say anything.”

After all, this was her fault, wasn’t it? She couldn’t have predicted this level of impact, but that didn’t change that she took advantage of someone in a vulnerable position. That she allowed such weak justifications to excuse her actions, it was truly shameless. Even worse, she caused significant damage to someone who she was responsible for helping. The trust it took so long for her to earn, she betrayed it so easily. That professionalism she so prided herself on, was this all it was worth? No matter what, she owed it to him to find a way to repair things.

“I’m sorry.”

His grip on her hands slackened slightly, before getting stronger again.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But this morning, I-“

“This just now, it wasn’t because of you. I don’t regret a _single thing_ that happened between us, and I hope that you don’t either.”

She closed her eyes, fingers curling involuntarily inwards, as her pulse spiked. How easily he could affect her, just by using that tone of voice. It was kind of him to say, but it was impossible for her to believe those words. She knew he was just trying to make her feel better, absolving her of responsibility, and it only served to deepen the sensation of guilt gnawing at her insides.

 

 

He was so certain that she’d leave, that he ended up creating this type of situation, when all he was trying to do was spare her the awkwardness of facing him. How did he manage to make things so much worse? And it was true, it _wasn’t_ her fault, but now she felt responsible. What could he do to salvage things? As much as he wanted her to stay in his life, he didn’t want her to feel obligated to him because of an undeserved sense of guilt.

It wasn’t her, how could he make her see that? It was everything else. She owed him nothing, and he didn’t want her to feel beholden to him. That would just make him feel even worse. It was almost funny, in a completely humorless way, the misunderstanding between them, with both feeling responsible for the other’s unpleasant emotional responses. What could he do to show her that he was alright? So that she would stop worrying and blaming herself? There was no guarantee she’d agree, but he could only think of one thing.

“Mistress,” he paused, gathering the courage to ask so boldly, “please hurt me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this did *not* go where I intended it to go but I finished a chapter so I’m going to chalk that up as a win. Too much exposition? Probably. Is this even cohesive anymore? Idk, but it's whatever, and let’s all just pretend it’s reasonable for Ren to fully bounce back that fast after dissociating, okay? And please also ignore the impossibly long ‘early morning’ and subsequent shower that isn’t even over yet xD
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is NSFW.

Did he just? He couldn’t possibly… she must’ve misheard him, but _no,_ he definitely… What was he thinking?! This was… she wasn’t even… right now… Was he serious? She couldn’t possibly, not like this. It wasn’t, not like this, but then, hadn’t she just told herself she’d do anything in her power to make things right? Still, their contract had been dissolved, and this was an atypical situation to say the least.

“Okay.”

Her mouth, it acted on its own! She was still trying to sort through things in her head, and then she abruptly agreed before she even had a chance to decide! There was no way to say no now, not without making the situation even worse than she already had. This was a complete and utter disaster, and she wasn’t anywhere close to Setsu’s mindset! What, was she supposed to do _that_ as herself? It was unthinkable! She’d really landed herself in a mess this time, and had no idea how to get out of it.

Seeming to sense her hesitation, he slipped his fingers free from hers, and guided her hands to his chest. Things suddenly turning out like this, how was it even possible?

“Mistress,” he encouraged, applying a gentle pressure to her fingertips that made his intentions more than obvious.

What a bizarre situation she was in, in regards to all of it really. She couldn’t pinpoint one specific thing, when it all seemed equally improbable. Still, it was happening, and there was nowhere to go but forward. Of course, she could’ve refused, but the opportunity appeared to have passed, and if she was being honest, at least part of her was actually okay with this somehow. She closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath, and curled her fingers inward until her nails were pressing into his skin.

It was strange, something so familiar to her now seeming like a new experience. She stayed that way a moment, his hands still over hers, before she finally felt comfortable enough to push deeper. The muscles in his back began to shift as her nails traveled across his chest; his shoulders rolling slightly, as his hands let go of hers to push against the shower wall. It was so much more intimate like this, their dynamic inexplicably altered with him taking the lead. No matter what, she needed to regain control.

 

 

Her movements were tentative at first, as though she wasn’t comfortable with the situation. Was this okay? He didn’t want to place her in an awkward position, but he felt reasonably certain this familiar territory would put her at ease and help reassure her. The hesitancy lingered a moment longer, and then she became surer of herself, nails digging deeper into his skin. She scratched along his shoulders and biceps, and from his forearms down to his wrists. His eyes fluttered shut, as he tried to stop himself from getting carried away.

He bit back a groan, his jaw clenching at the intensity of the sensations she invoked him. Just this much and he was already putty in her hands, eager to be played with however she saw fit. Would that disgust her to know, how much he wanted this? Didn’t she already? What did it even matter now, exposing himself to her? There was nothing left to lose, so worrying made no difference. He’d savor every minute that he had, knowing exactly how finite each one was. That was all he could do.

She dragged her nails up and down his stomach, almost hard enough to break the skin, and his entire body tensed as a moan escaped his lips. Instead of backing off like he feared, she scratched him even harder, and he became hyper aware of her nakedness, her warm, wet skin against his skin, and her breasts pressed into his back. The breath hitched in his throat, as her fingertips grazed over the curve of his hip bone, and dragged down his thighs.

Her touch was almost playful, no nails this time, and he gasped when suddenly he felt them again, biting roughly into his flesh as she worked back up to his hips. With the second pass, she marked his outer thighs, and with the next, she moved inwards. He stopped breathing completely, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. There was no way she couldn’t hear it too, her cheek resting against him. He struggled to let out a breath, an attempt to calm himself, and to mitigate the intense heat building in his abdomen.

How was he supposed to stop himself from getting his hopes up when she teased him like this? Maybe she was just initially doing what he asked, but now the play had taken on a life of its own, and he was thankful she couldn’t see exactly how flustered he was. Their positions were a mercy he realized, as his obvious arousal was hidden from her eyes. After everything that happened between them, how would she feel if she saw it? He was afraid to find out.

 

 

It excited her, how much more sensitive he was, probably as a result of the hot water increasing blood flow beneath the skin. It was a dangerous feeling, and she was only too eager to coax more of those helpless little sounds from him. Was this really okay? Was he really okay? She honestly didn’t know what to think, and whether to believe him or not. The urge to touch him, to feel the effect she had on him firsthand, it was almost irrepressible. That wasn’t how this worked though, right? It was crossing the line? But where the line was now, she could no longer tell.

“Is this alright?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from wavering as she inched ever closer.

“You don’t have to.”

Good, let him think it was only obligation, so that he never knew how badly she wanted to. Better still if she could simultaneously deny it to herself.

“That’s not what I asked.”

_“Yes, Mistress.”_

That tone was so encouraging as to almost be pleading, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. She placed one hand flat against his stomach, and reached out with the other to feel him. He was hard and throbbing, and warmer than the rest of him, as her palm glided over the soft skin. She held her breath, and realized that he wasn’t breathing either. Maybe they were both feeling the same anticipation and uncertainty? No, she needed to get out of her head and focus.

Her hand curled around him to grip him firmly, as she worked slowly up and down. The fingers splayed across his stomach curled inwards, digging her nails in progressively deeper with each languid stroke. He didn’t hurry her, not moving so much as a single muscle, until she dragged her tongue along his spine, and then bit him hard. The surprised groan was so satisfying, and she felt him twitch in her hand. She increased her pressure, careful to avoid excess friction from the drag of the water, but kept her speed the same. It really was too much fun to torture him, and if he wanted her to go faster, she had every intention of making him beg for it.

 

 

She reached down with the hand on his stomach to scratch her way back up his thigh, as the fingers wrapped around his shaft moved up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. It was almost too much, the teasing, and he leaned forward until his forehead pressed to the tiles, trying to calm his nerves. He thought his heart would give out when he felt her tongue and then her teeth, and he shuddered, every nerve in his body set ablaze. This was happening, wasn’t it? This was really, actually happening.

He focused on the feel of each sensation, making himself present in the moment, in order to chase away the dissenting thoughts. An opportunity like this probably wouldn’t come again, and he’d never forgive himself if he wasted it. He gasped, his eyes shooting open when her nails dug into his side with enough force to break the skin.

“Too much?” she asked, worried, both hands stilling.

 _“No,”_ he panted, struggling to get out the words, _“please… don’t stop.”_

She kept up those torturously slow strokes, and he was desperate for her to speed up, but he didn’t want to push her too far. How indulgent could he expect her to be, after all? Still, if she kept this up for much longer, he was liable to go insane. If he placed a hand over hers and encouraged her to increase her speed that way, how bad would it be? He was burning, desperate for more stimulation. There was nothing now but his rapidly growing need, and he couldn’t take it anymore. His hand clenched into a fist, frantically trying not to lose control.

 

 

It was admirable, how well he’d put up with being tortured so far, but his breathing had grown considerably labored. Should she take pity on him and show clemency, or keep going until he broke completely? She suddenly remembered that he was already pretty broken, and with the state he’d been in last night and then just this morning, it might’ve been cruel to make him suffer longer for the sake of her amusement. She immediately quickened her pace, twisting her wrist side to side as she went up and down, and he let out a strangled moan of pleasure and relief, as his back arched into her.

“Better?” she teased, once again licking and then biting his back.

_“Unnngh, yes... Mistress.”_

When had that word starting carrying such an erotic connotation? A powerful pulse ran through her, throbbing right between her legs. Was it wrong to think about wanting him inside her? With their naked bodies pressed together, slick with water, and acutely aware of every single inch of him, she was getting incredibly frustrated. Her nails tore hungrily into his flesh, to the point where she didn’t know if he was wet with water or blood. She wanted more of those sounds, listening intently to hear him panting and moaning over the steady rushing of the shower.

Her strokes got faster, alternating between longer and shorter, and giving special attention to the tip, while gently massaging the underside with her fingers. He struggled to stay quiet, his body starting to tremble. She couldn’t tell him how much she wanted to hear him. It shouldn’t have been so hot, getting him off like this, but it was driving her crazy. There was a comfort and almost anonymity with their faces hidden from each other, so similar to the darkness of the night before, and it was unnerving how uninhibited it inspired her to behave.

She was also a bit high off the power she had over him, this towering giant of a man happy to prostrate himself before her. It certainly wasn’t a new thing for her, but for some reason, with him it was incredibly sexy. Maybe that was because _he_ was so sexy she thought, objectively, of course. Too sexy, if she was being honest. A danger to the eyes of every masculine-attracted person who happened to see him, which made her unable to stop wanting to touch him, and be touched by him.

 _“Mistress,”_ he struggled, voice almost a whimper, “I… may I?”

 _“Yes,”_ she urged, the anticipation making her heady.

He groaned loudly as he came, a guttural sound that made her thighs clench together. She guided him through, stroking gently as he went limp in her hand. His body slumped over slightly, and she wrapped both arms around him, hugging him close. She fought the urge to praise him, so obedient in waiting for permission, because it would set a dangerous precedent. Not only was she not Setsu, but he wasn’t a client anymore, which just confused things further. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing, except that it was absolutely wrong.

 

 

Electricity shot through him, exploding in pure white, until there was nothing left and he was floating. His head swum, completely gone, the sturdy grip around him all that kept him inside his body. She was so incredible he didn’t understand how it could be possible, but somehow it was. He never wanted to come down, and hoped she’d let him stay there forever, suspended just above himself, and much too far away for the darkness to take hold. It was a blissfully empty feeling, but so fulfilling at the same time.

“Mistress… thank you.”

It seemed an odd thing to say, like she’d just done him a favor, and maybe that’s exactly what she did. He didn’t it mean it like that though, and he hoped she wouldn’t misunderstand. Her arms closed around him tighter, and he dreaded the moment she’d let go.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He wanted to say, _because of you,_ but that would’ve made it sound like he couldn’t be okay without her. Even if he thought that might be the truth, he wouldn’t admit it, not when it implied some kind of obligation on her part to take care of him. She didn’t owe him that, and he knew it. He might’ve been a monster, but he wouldn’t try to take further advantage of her kindness, especially when she’d already given him so much more than he deserved.

“We… should probably get out of the shower,” she suggested, awkwardly breaking the silence between them and carefully disentangling herself.

 _Yes,_ he agreed, realizing just how long they’d been in there and fighting the rising guilt in his chest. He turned the water off, finding it difficult to turn and face her. The absence of her touch was palpable and he wanted more; as much as he could get. How much was that? Had he already passed the limit? There was no way he hadn’t, but with nothing left to lose, how bad was it to press his luck?

“Mistress.”

He came up behind her, struggling to stay upright on unsteady legs, and sparing only a second to appreciate the view of her naked body from behind. Of course, it made him want to touch her more.

“Yes?”

She didn’t turn her head, probably still not comfortable facing him. That was fine, she didn’t have to.

“May I?” he asked, tentatively placing his hands on her waist.

She paused, considering it, and he held his breath.

“Okay,” she finally decided, giving him all the encouragement he needed.

He wrapped his arms around her and she sunk into him, resting her head in the crook of his neck. Leaning his weight against her helped keep him stable, and he trailed his fingers carefully along her skin, a parallel to their position in the shower that did not escape him. She let out a small sigh, and he thought maybe she noticed it too.

 _“Mistress,”_ he whispered, dragging his hands up her body to palm her breasts.

She moaned softly, taking hold of his shoulder with one hand and snaking the other into his hair.

“Mistress, may I?”

“Yes.”

He was desperate to hear her say his name, but he knew she wouldn’t. They both understood the implications of that word spoken under these circumstances. He squeezed, his fingers teasing her nipples, and she tightened her grip.

 _“Mistress,”_ he repeated, leaning to rest his cheek against hers.

How close was too close? He couldn’t stop himself.

_“Yes.”_

His heart was pounding; the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Was he crazy, or did that actually turn her on? Slowly, he trailed one hand down her body, fingertips inching along and tickling her skin. She twitched, her back arching, and the hand in his hair started to pull.

_“Mistress.”_

_“Mmmm,”_ she moaned, her nails biting into his shoulder.

 _“Mistre-“_ he began, interrupted by a loud grumbling sound that erupted from her tiny body and overtook the atmosphere in the room.

Suddenly she was sobered, stepping away from him, and all thoughts of sex were replaced with breakfast. Maybe it was just the excuse she’d been looking for to come back to her senses, and even if he was disappointed, he knew he had no right to be. She wrapped herself in the robe hanging from the back of the door, and immediately fled from the room. Even if he was grateful, and even if he knew better than to be so greedy, Kuon couldn’t help thinking that she was still undressed, and that she hadn’t left yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the longest morning ever and I can’t believe I essentially wrote a two chapter long shower scene xD Anyone else feel like Kyoko would never be okay with wasting so much water? Anyway, next chapter, the FIFTH, will end the apartment visit saga, which is literally a third of the story. What even is pacing?
> 
> ALSO, this trash story is slowly working its way to 40k words, and I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. Thanks for sticking with me!


	16. Chapter 16

“What are you smiling for?” he asked himself, catching a glimpse of his reflection.

His heart nearly stopped, realizing he wasn’t wearing contacts. He put his hands to his face, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. Was it possible she didn’t see? Wait, why was he so worried anyway? It’s not like she would care that he was hiding his real eye color, and he doubted she would mention it if she did notice. Still, exposing himself like that to anyone, it was something he didn’t plan on ever doing. If it had to happen, at least it was with her.

He raked his fingers through his hair, casually inspecting himself in the mirror, and found he was transfixed. Angry paths trailed along his body, and he followed them with his fingers, reveling in the sting as he brushed an especially harsh scratch. In a few places there was a small crust of dried blood, where her nails had broken through the skin. He closed his eyes, trying not to let himself get carried away again. She’d never done that before, and it thrilled him to think how long the marks would last. If only she’d scratched him hard enough to scar.

He was pitiful, he knew, but he didn’t care, getting quickly dressed to find her already in the kitchen. His chest ached at the sight, standing next to the fridge in a robe, like she lived there. The prospect was absurd, but somehow not entirely unwelcome.

“Water. There is nothing in your refrigerator but water.”

“Err, yes?”

“What do you normally have for breakfast?”

She crossed her arms, her tone demanding, as she impatiently tapped her foot.

“I usually just have coffee…”

“So you’re telling me that you don’t eat breakfast? And what about lunch or dinner?”

“I… my assistant typically orders lunch, sometimes from the café, and if I feel like eating, I might get something from the convenience store for dinner. Why?”

Her eyes narrowed, her mouth set in a hard line. This, he was confused by, his brow furrowing.

“To be honest, I’m rather surprised by how irresponsible you are,” she chided.

She looked genuinely disappointed, but he didn’t understand what the problem was. Still, he was being lectured by Mogami-san, just like a child. What a bizarre development. He had to stop himself from smiling, both because of his surprise, and because of how familiar and comfortable their interaction felt. It would be so dangerous for him to believe she cared about him as herself, and not just as a client or for sex.

“I don’t have much of an appetite,” he explained sheepishly.

“That’s no excuse. A body as large as yours especially should not be neglected. Caloric requirements, and the nutritional value of your food, are things you need to be cognizant of. What happens when you get sick, and your neglected body is unable to fight the virus or infection? What will you do then?”

“I’ve never been sick in my life,” he insisted, feeling about eight years old.

She raised an eyebrow at him, looking incredulous. He lifted his palms to her, trying to show he was being honest.

“Well there’s a first time for everything, and just drinking water and exercising are not enough. It’s a wonder your muscles haven’t begun deteriorating from malnourishment!”

He coughed, bringing a hand to his mouth. This was no good; if she kept this up he wouldn’t be able to keep the smile at bay.

“This is serious, are you listening to me?”

“You know,” he started, voice getting lower and taking a step forward. “If it was an order from my _Mistress,_ then I would have no choice but to obey. Even if I had to eat three meals a day and a snack, I would do it.”

Her cheeks flushed bright red, and she turned her back to him. At least he didn’t have to hold back the smile anymore. This side of her was so _cute,_ had it always been there, just waiting to be discovered? He wanted to see more, to get to know this side of her more; the _real_ her, and not just the persona she showed her clients.

 

 

That cheeky little brat! He was goading her, and she was playing right into his hands, her face flooding with heat. _An order from his Mistress,_ why that little… well, not so little, whatever he was. Incredibly irksome, for starters, and a whole host of other things it was probably best not to list, lest she forget her objective.

“Knowing you are risking your health should be all the inducement required,” she told him flatly, still turned away. “What kind of grown adult doesn’t have food in the house?”

Her voice got progressively quieter, muttering to herself just loud enough for him to hear about how childish and irresponsible it was. When she finally turned to look at him, he was smiling so radiantly she flinched, having to shield her eyes so they wouldn’t be burned from her skull. Had he always been capable of that? It was extremely unsettling, and an assault on her heart. She was almost thankful to Shotaro that her armor was so thick, a less protected person might’ve had their entire soul stolen.

He knew very well she couldn’t order him, not now that their contract was dissolved, and especially when she was like this – when she was _herself._ She put a hand to her face, _she was herself._ She’d done all _that_ as herself. With _him._ A client… ex-client… Not really much a distinction, and she’d sworn to Moko-san that she wouldn’t see him again. All those rules and promises she was breaking, because she was a no good, very bad, completely shameless idiot. If God had struck her down just then it would’ve been a mercy, and exactly what she deserved.

“So, there’s literally _nothing_ to eat?”

She finally turned to face him again, leveling him with a critical gaze. The more annoyed she let herself be, the easier it was to distract herself. Yes, and _he_ was the childish one.

“There… might be something in one of the cabinets?” he offered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

He cleared his throat, taking it upon himself to rifle through them. The results of his search produced three boxes of tea, a tin of instant coffee, and a package of cookies that expired two years earlier, which were most likely given to him by someone else. She scoffed, and he looked pointedly in every direction but at her.

“When you get sick you will have no one to blame but yourself, and don’t give me that _‘never get sick’_ excuse,” she warned, adopting a mocking tone of voice. “It _will_ happen, and I will be waiting to laugh in your face when it does, proudly declaring that I told you so.”

All the sudden the room was taken over by awkward silence, pregnant with the implication of her words. She would be there when it happened, that’s what she told him. _Shit._

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I won’t hold you to it.”

She flinched, gritting her teeth. And there went the guilt, stabbing her in the chest and twisting the blade deeper and deeper until it was all the way in.

 

 

Things had been going so well, or at least about as well as they reasonably could’ve, and then those words had suddenly changed everything. That was the problem wasn’t it, that she wasn’t even supposed to be there in the first place? That the rules had been broken, and everything had spiraled completely into chaos from there? What he wouldn’t have given for more of the insanity, but he knew it wasn’t an opinion she shared. Now, the best thing he could do was to offer her the out she was no doubt hoping for. So this was where it would all come to an end.

“Mistr-Mogami-san, did you want to use my washing machine, or borrow something clean of mine? Rather, I could give you something of mine. You don’t need to worry about returning it.”

They’d come full circle, hadn’t they? Maybe fate really _had_ brought them together, he thought bitterly, her offering him what he needed to get where he was going – a phone charger. Now he could grant her the same small kindness in return, even if the meaning and gravity was incomparable, but probably only to him.

“I… thank you.”

She didn’t look at him, and he didn’t expect her to. All that she’d given to him, it was enough, it had to be. How selfish and greedy was he, daring to even hope for more? He should’ve been more grateful to her, instead of taking every last inch she would give him.

“It’s the least I can do,” he bowed his head, “I’ll be right back.”

He turned from her, closing his eyes to keep his face impassive, and made his way back to the closet. How long would her ghost haunt him here? Maybe forever, if he was lucky. Of course, it would hurt like hell, but he welcomed it like the masochist that he was. There wasn’t much that would fit her and not look obviously like she was wearing someone else’s clothes. He supposed it depended on if she was alright with that or not. Maybe a shirt of his she could wear as a dress, maybe with a belt at her waist…

“This is not ideal I know, but I think it might work, and not look too much like you borrowed it from a man.”

 

 

That was considerate in a way she didn’t expect. He really _did_ have a lot of experience with this kind of thing though, she reasoned. Maybe that was why. The sweater he handed her was sleek and stretchy, enough that it might be passed off as a dress.

“You may need to cuff the sleeves, but with a belt it’s possible no one will notice.”

“I didn’t expect you to have such a keen sense of women’s fashion,” she teased, trying to bring back some of the lightheartedness from earlier.

“My mother was a model, so I guess it goes with the territory.”

She looked up at him, surprised by the sudden admission. That was something she could easily accept though, with his face and posture. Not to mention if he’d gotten those remarkable eyes, that he’d once again hidden, from her. It suddenly struck her how little she actually knew about him; how little they really knew about each other. Until now it hadn’t even occurred to her to be curious, but she found herself wondering all kinds of idle questions she would never bring herself to ask. There would be no point, not when this was goodbye.

She shouldn’t have felt so sad about that, because she didn’t have any feelings for him. It was just base, sexual attraction, and a sense of obligation because of how their D/s relationship had ended. She found his eyes and held them, until it started to sting in her chest, and she had to look away. Wordlessly, she took the proffered garment and went to another room to change. Her feet felt so heavy, an unfamiliar sensation burrowed beneath her breast. What was going on inside her? If she was honest with herself, she’d rather not know the answer.

Bedroom or bathroom? They both filled her mind with vivid recounts of what she’d done with him, on the bed and in the shower. Her face became hot, her heart pounding. She shook her head, _it’s just sexual attraction,_ she reminded herself, not entirely convinced but unwilling to admit that. Some part of her actually wondered if it was possible for her to steal the robe, not entirely for the sake of a memento, but because it just happened to be extremely soft and comfortable. Yes, she _could_ buy her own, but this one was so nice… How perfectly ridiculous.

 

 

Thump, thump, thump. His heart struck loudly in his ears with each steady beat, as he waited for her to emerge. How much longer would it be until he had to say goodbye, _again?_ Ten minutes? Five minutes? Even less? Why didn’t he keep his fridge stocked with food? Even if it would’ve been wasteful normally, it could’ve kept her here longer. If only he was prone to eating more, then they could’ve had breakfast together, enjoying an unnatural domesticity that was too surreal to be entirely comfortable, but was incredibly comforting nonetheless. At least, he imagined it would be.

She walked slowly from the room, carrying her neatly folded clothes from the night before, with eyes trained to the floor.

“Looks good,” he smiled reassuringly, but she didn’t see it.

“…Thank you.”

“Let me get a bag for you.”

“Th-thank you…”

He pressed his eyes shut, the awkward moment dragging on too long. Of course, if it never ended, then she would never leave, but his mind was just going in circles.

“Do you want me to drive you?”

He already knew she wouldn’t say yes, but it would be impolite not to ask. It was always necessary to keep up the pretense, wasn’t it?

“N-no, but… _thank you.”_

How many times would she repeat those words until she was finally free of his apartment? It was painful, how seemingly close they’d been before, and how far the gulf between them was had stretched to now. He wanted to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her neck, inhaling her scent until it was the only air in his lungs. Instead, he led her to the door, opening it for her as she slipped on her shoes.

“I-“ she began, the words dying in her throat.

“You don’t have to,” he assured her, and this time she saw his smile.

“No, but…” she trailed off once more, and he braced himself for the impact. “If you… it’s okay… if you need to call me again.”

A direct hit, and even more painful than he expected. This time it was his turn, apparently.

“Thank you, Mogami-san, that’s very kind of you.”

 

 

He kept giving her that polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and it killed her. Was he really alright? He couldn’t possibly have been, if what she’d seen last night was any indication. Even if she was telling him it was okay to rely on her, when it couldn’t have been farther from okay, anything was better than him being alone when he was like that. Someone should be there for him, and if there was no one else, was it so bad if it was her? Maybe if it was just once in a while, and of course she would make sure nothing _else_ happened afterwards next time…

“Re- Tsuru- I…”

“Don’t worry,” he insisted, “I really _am_ fine.”

She wanted that to be true, but she didn’t believe him. How could she, when he obviously said it to make her feel better? That was his intention right, to let her off easy? Didn’t she owe it to him, after everything, not to let him?

“If,” she paused, taking a breath she hoped would give her the courage to say the words. “If I _ordered_ you to tell me the truth, you’d have to, right?”

He smiled, his expression almost wistful.

“Of course, and I would tell you that I’m alright, because it’s true.”

“Alright,” she resigned.

“Goodbye, Mogami-san.”

She couldn’t look at him, she felt too guilty and responsible.

_“Goodbye.”_

Slowly but determined, she walked through the door and down the hallway, pressed the button and entered the elevator, without ever turning back. It felt like if she did, then she wouldn’t have been able to keep going, and staying was not an option that existed. Forward, she just had to keep moving forward, and eventually this would all be behind her. Then, maybe she could finally learn how to breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoosh, and they’re back at square one! Err, well not really, but what can you expect with two people who are allergic to progress? I tried to make it fluffier this time, but that is not my strong suit xD Anyway, thanks for reading! Tune in (hopefully) next week, for devolution into total filth xD


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW.

Almost a month had passed since the morning of her departure, something he tried not to dwell on. The sheets had been cleaned, washing away the lingering scent of her in his bed. It was a good thing, moving forward, even if, in practice, it looked like pretending it never happened. He didn’t want to wipe away the memory of her completely though, the feeling of fondness was too strong. Maybe this was a good sort of pain, one to keep him focused, since he’d nearly learned how to not be consumed by it.

Things were going alright. The darkness inside him had begun to recede, and he was no longer haunted by the dreams every time he closed his eyes. It went back to occasional, as before; a thing that he was able to distract himself from with enough overtime. He couldn’t quite bring himself to schedule appointments on Thursday evenings yet, but he really _was_ doing better. He wondered idly if she thought about him, but knew he was getting ahead of himself again. That was the past, and putting his past behind him was something he excelled at. Mostly.

A smile would find his face on occasion, appearing suddenly by surprise, a thing that had Yashiro nagging him about being in love. Yukihito probably couldn’t understand his feelings, assuming it was some kind of romance like in novels, instead of being about restraints and blindfolds and safe words. That wasn’t what people expected from the gentlemanly Tsuruga Ren, and he could never let slip that that wasn’t his true self. He sighed, wondering if he should thank Yashiro for inadvertently leading him to her, but whether or not that was really a good thing, he didn’t know.

A text came through on his phone just as he went to the kitchen for more ice. Thursdays were the one day he wasn’t supposed to be disturbed, and he really didn’t feel like going back to the office this late. Maybe he could ignore the message, pretend he hadn’t seen it, but he shook his head. Tsuruga Ren was implacably responsible… except about his meals, he smiled sadly, reminiscing. Even _that_ he’d been taking care of these days; she would be so proud if she saw him, but that didn’t matter. His heart stopped, his entire body frozen when he saw the name.

 **Mogami 7:24  
**_Are you at home?  
_ His fingers tapped the screen frantically.

 **Ren 7:29  
** _Yes._

 **Mogami 7:33  
** _Busy?_

 **Ren 7:34  
** _No._

 **Mogami 7:40  
** _I’ll be there within 30 minutes.  
_ _If I have to knock, I won’t come in._

He stopped breathing momentarily, his pulse thundering in his ears, and he hurried to make himself ready before she arrived. It was the fastest shower he’d ever taken in his life, followed by rushing to ensure his already tidy apartment was spotless. He breathed a sigh of relief knowing there was food in his fridge in case she intended to check, but wondered if it wouldn’t be better to give her something to punish him for, preferably with her bare hands. Within thirty minutes, how long should that be? Would it be less, or would she take longer, leaving him waiting on tenterhooks? The anticipation was almost more than he could bear, waiting its own form of torture; his excitement mounting with each passing second.

He watched for her at the door, almost afraid to blink, lest she appear at that moment and have the opportunity to knock before he could wrest the door open. What was the reason for her visit, and did he dare to let himself hope? How would she look, would she be Setsu or Mogami-san? All the tension he hadn’t even realized he’d been building over the last few weeks evaporated, replaced with the thrill he felt in knowing he’d soon be able to see her. To _touch_ crossed his mind of course, but he didn’t expect it or even care, no matter how much he wanted it. He was only human after all, and who would be able to resist her?

Ultimately he decided to keep the door cracked, the nerves getting to him, and when he heard the distant sound of heels clicking across the marble floor, he breathed a sigh of relief. Hers, he desperately hoped, and who else’s could they be? Just as she approached the door, he pulled it wide open, and she looked up at him with a knowing smirk. She was Setsu, both in manner and appearance, and though he didn’t know exactly what it meant, his abdomen filled with warmth. He felt lightheaded as she stepped across the threshold, desperate to learn the purpose of her visit.

“I won’t be taking off my boots,” she informed him.

“Of course, Mistress. I wouldn’t dream of making such an insolent request.”

“Good, now let’s sit down and talk.”

She left her bag by the door and he followed into the living room, wondering what was inside. Once they were seated opposite each other, she began.

“I have a proposition, would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Bated breath seemed an understatement of almost hyperbolic proportion.

“Do you still wish to continue being my submissive?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

She looked him straight in the eyes, and his head was swimming. How should he answer that question? Was he supposed to lie and say he didn’t? That wasn’t allowed, right?

“Answer honestly.”

 _“Yes,_ Mistress.”

“Alright,” she started, standing and walking towards him, “then I’ll offer you an arrangement that involves both.”

He swallowed the large lump in his throat, suddenly feeling very thirsty. _Both,_ that’s what she said, wasn’t it? He was having trouble getting his mind to process the words.

“You wouldn’t be a client receiving my professional services, but instead you’d be my sex toy, the _object_ I use to get myself off. You would be required to serve me as I see fit, and to make me cum as often as I desire. _Your_ pleasure would be according to my whim, and dependent on how well you manage to satisfy me.”

How did a person breathe? He suddenly couldn’t remember, his heart thundering so loudly that he didn’t know if he’d be able to hear her voice over the sound.

“Our play would not be like the sessions in my dungeon. Instead of bringing _your_ fantasy to life, the focus would be on _my_ gratification. Your needs would be secondary, if not merely an afterthought. The arrangement would be exclusive, and subject to termination at any time by either party.”

His mind raced with this information. Despite the discouragement in her tone, she had to know he wouldn’t refuse. So long as she was back in his life, he’d have agreed to practically anything. He knew how caring and tender she could be, and even if she’d never love him back, it didn’t matter. So what if she only saw him as an object, wasn’t it already more than he deserved? If he could satisfy her well enough, then he had a chance to hold on, just a little longer; to keep up the lie he was desperate to believe. Besides, he wanted her so badly his entire body ached, and getting the chance to please her was beyond his wildest dreams.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You don’t have to decide right now, it’s okay to take your time.”

Take his time? He was already ready before she’d even finished speaking. He was so ready that he was practically panicked, terrified this would turn out to be a dream. Of course, she no doubt anticipated his response, given that she’d brought a duffel bag full of supplies.

“I don’t need to wait, Mistress. I’m absolutely certain.”

“Are you?” she asked, placing her hands on the arms of his chair and leaning forward until their cheeks were practically touching. “I thought you might be,” she whispered in his ear.

He shivered, his body tingling at the feeling of her breath against his skin. She got up, smoothed out her skirt, flipped her hair back, and carried something from the duffel into the kitchen.

“Well,” she paused, looking him over with a smirk, “let’s go find the best place to tie you up.”

His home gym, it was decided, would function as a makeshift dungeon. As instructed, he positioned a flat weight bench sideways under the pull up bar. She lifted her hand and snapped her fingers suddenly. At once his eyes were trained on her, waiting to be issued a command.

“Fetch my bag.”

Instantly he stood, reminding himself to keep his eagerness in check, when he almost sprinted to his objective. Obeisance was good, but if he was too pathetic, she might end up being disgusted by him. He couldn’t think about that though, he needed to focus. His tongue darted out to lick his lips at the sight of her bent over, her skirt riding up high in the back and revealing a tiny hint of red lace. She pulled nylon straps from the bag, different from the sort she normally used on him, and had him take a seat so that she could adjust the length. 

“Get undressed.”

By rote he stripped down to his underwear and stood before her for inspection. She looked him over amusedly, one side of her mouth quirking up.

“Did you plan on leaving these on?” she asked, teasing her fingertips across his skin along the top of the band.

He gulped, “should I remove them, Mistress?”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” she said, cocking her head to the side.

Why was he suddenly feeling so timid? He had nothing to be embarrassed about, but this was something new, fully exposing himself to her scrutiny, and it made him nervous. Her eyes drifted downward and then back up, boring into his once he was stripped bare, while the small smile on her face turned wicked. That look made him throb, his muscles tensing and jaw tight. He sat when instructed and waited anxiously for her to begin, his body itching to be restrained after so long.

“This time I brought my own,” she winked, tossing him a box of condoms.

He breathed a sigh of relief, even while his pulse had suddenly skyrocketed. Did that mean… he was almost afraid to hope, trying to tamp down on his excitement before it bubbled over. She stalked towards him, dragging her fingers down one arm, taking his hand in hers, and then lifting it over his head to secure his wrist with a nylon cuff. Next she lifted his other hand, crossing his arms just below the wrists, and fastened the other. She was in control and it had never felt more right.

He closed his eyes, tension bleeding away and leaving him blissful, as he gently pulled against his bonds. Finally he was hers again, bound before her, and she hadn’t even gotten to his ankles. His breathing slowed, and so did his heartbeat, as he relaxed into the sensation of submission. He missed this, how perfect it was, to be at her mercy.

“Such a good boy,” she whispered, stroking a hand down his cheek.

He kept his eyes closed, the feel of her touch lingering on his skin as she knelt down to restrain his ankles.

“For this first time the gag might be too much, but the blindfold should be alright. How does that sound?”

He nodded, feeling almost intoxicated. She grabbed hold of his chin firmly and raised it, his eyes opening to look at her.

“Use your words, so I know you are mentally fit to consent.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Are you certain? It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“Yes Mistress.”

The thick fabric pressed over his skin, shutting out all traces of light. This was the darkness that felt safe, where she was there to protect and guide him. He became more aware of the restraints, the sensation heightened with the knowledge that he was at her mercy absolutely. She stood close enough for him to breathe in her scent and he did, filling his lungs with her. It was the scent of home, and he wanted to stay there forever.

 

 

She was lying to herself if she thought for a second that things would turn out differently than this. It was a good thing too, because she was extremely frustrated. She hadn’t forgotten the feel of his body, and he hadn’t forgotten hers. Finally she would get to feel him completely, and she didn’t expect to be disappointed. It was difficult not to touch him, as she looked him over appreciatively, getting an unobstructed view for the first time, and without having to feel self-conscious since he couldn’t see her looking.

He looked good enough to eat, with nothing covering his skin but the restraints, and she wanted to devour him until he begged for mercy. How much clothing of her own to remove, she wondered, stepping out of her panties and skirt. But then she thought about how good it would feel to press her bare breasts against his skin. In the end she left only her boots, as a physical reminder that she was still Setsu.

“Shall we begin?”

“Yes Mistress.”

She grabbed hold of his shoulders for support and knelt onto the bench, straddling him. It was almost uncomfortably intimate, their faces so close together, but it helped that his eyes were hidden from her. He was hard and pulsing beneath her as she lowered herself, pushing against him. Her hands moved down his body, sliding over each smooth ridge of muscle, and pressing her fingertips in at his hips. She ran her nose along his skin, over the edge of his jaw, and down the column of his neck, reveling in each sigh and shiver.

It was almost too gentle a torture, and she was desperate to rock her body into him; to feel more of him. She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his firm chest, lifting up slightly to stimulate her nipples. His breath caught and she bit her lip, reminding herself to take it slow. She was Setsu, and Setsu didn’t get nervous. Her hips just barely shifted, unable to stop them, and he let out a soft moan, prompting her to drag her tongue up his sternum.

 _“Mistress,”_ he breathed.

 _“Yes, my sex toy,”_ she whispered, hot against his skin and making him shudder.

His expression turned hungry, every bit the emperor, and she felt a throb between her legs. Getting up onto her knees, she took hold of him and gave him a single, slow stroke. He let out a heavy breath and she reached for the box, tearing open a tiny, foil packet and rolling the condom over every glorious inch of him. She held him parallel to her entrance, dragging her hips slowly up and down to grind against him. Her eyes fluttered shut and she could feel him struggling against the restraints, making her chuckle. She leaned her head back, jaw falling slack as she made them both wet with her arousal.

Getting all the way up on her knees, she teased herself with the tip, barely able to stop herself from moaning. Unlikely Mogami Kyoko, Setsu was unabashed by her own pleasure, but she couldn’t show him how much she was enjoying herself. The power was hers, and she had to stay in control. He’d stopped breathing, his body tense beneath her, and she was dizzy with anticipation.

“Do you promise to give me a good ride?” she purred.

_“Yes, Mistress.”_

“You’d better.”

She teased them both just a little more, before sinking down onto him slowly, until he was hilted inside her. Her muscles tensed, relaxing as her body stretched to accommodate him. It was intensely satisfying, the feeling of fullness, and he felt even better than she hoped.

_“Mistress.”_

She leaned forward, bending her neck to rest her head against his chest. _Too intimate,_ a voice inside her warned, but the feel of his skin against hers was too good to resist.

“Alright sex toy, time to make me cum.”

Her hands tightened on his shoulders until her nails dug in slightly, and she lifted her hips up and down, making him groan. But this wasn’t about his pleasure, this was supposed to be about her, and she wanted to draw it out as long as possible, each languid movement torture for them both. His control was beginning to fade, pushing up into her as she lowered herself down, and making her gasp. She should’ve punished him, but she wanted more.

_“Mistress.”_

_“Mmm, yes,”_ she mewled, “just like that.”

He thrust up with each downward motion of her hips and she felt almost delirious, struggling to stay in control. She gradually traded long, slow strokes for shorter, faster ones, sinking down into his lap and rocking her hips quickly back and forth. Her back arched as he bucked his hips continuously upward, eagerly working to match the pace she set. His body felt more incredible than she could’ve imagine, and the nervousness that made her hesitate before was gone.

_“Mistress.”_

“Such, _unngh,_ such a good sex toy.”

And he was, the dehumanizing praise making him thrust into her even harder. She smiled, her eyes closing, and squeezed him tightly with her thighs to maintain her position. Undeterred by the shyness of Mogami Kyoko, she let herself moan freely. He was doing such a good job, she supposed he deserved a bit of encouragement. It was well worth it, because he thrust harder and faster still, until she was practically bouncing in his lap. She was panting now, and thoroughly impressed with him, throwing his hips up again and again, repeatedly burying himself inside her, as indecent sounds spilled from her lips.

 _“Mistress,”_ he growled, a ragged sound.

She enjoyed that word too much when he said it, especially now.

 _“Mistress,”_ he repeated, making her whine, “ _Mistress.”_

She rode him wantonly at a breakneck pace, letting go with one hand to rub her clit. There was so much more she planned to do, but she didn’t expect him to feel so good, and she couldn’t hold out for much longer. She lifted herself up high, her thighs quivering, to allow for longer, deeper thrusts, as two fingers worked furiously over her clit.

“Harder,” she commanded, breathless.

 _“Yes, Mistress,”_ he groaned, somehow driving himself into her with even greater intensity.

She cried out, her nails tearing into his skin. There were no thoughts or words, just the overwhelming intensity as he built her up so high she swore she could taste color. Finally she couldn’t take anymore, and everything burst inside her. She collapsed against him, unable to stay upright. He kept thrusting, her body so sensitized it was almost painful, and suddenly she was climbing back up again, before she’d had a chance to come down. She was almost incoherent, her brain mush and control lost. He brought her right to the top of the wall and then demolished it along with her.

 _“Mistress,”_ he begged through a clenched jaw, painting in between words. “May I cum?”

Responding with something between a hum and a moan, she’d have been proud if she was capable of thought. Something beyond a groan, like the sound of a feral beast, tore from his throat, and his body trembled against her as he finally let himself go. He slumped forward, his head resting on her shoulder, and she leaned her head against his while the aftershocks tingled throughout her body. For a long time neither stirred; their heaving lungs all that differentiated them from statues.

When she finally lifted herself enough for him to pull out, her shaking legs proved too unsteady to stand, and their bodies were forced back together. Their foreheads touched, with an intimacy that felt somehow permissible only because he couldn’t see her, as though that made it any less real. She told herself it did, whether or not she actually believed it.

 _“Mistress,”_ he struggled, not much better than she was. “Was I a good sex toy?”

With their noses pressed together, and his mouth so close she could taste his breath, she murmured vulgar praise practically against his lips.

 _“Mmm,_ ” she hummed, pulling her head back to run her tongue along his collarbone. “You were a _very_ good sex toy, just like I knew you would be.”

Who was she really teasing now, him or herself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughhh sorry about the wait again! So much stress and life stuff bleh. But, I know everyone was waiting for this one haha so I hope it didn’t disappoint xD Also, this trashfic has now passed FORTY THOUSAND WORDS. What even. I die laughing when I think it will reach over 50k.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is NSFW

_THWACK_

“Ren… are you...”

Yashiro stared at him in shock, brow furrowed and jaw fallen slack.

“I’m fine,” he assured, standing upright and rubbing the throbbing spot at the center of his forehead.

 _Shit,_ that was careless, and now his nosy assistant would be trying to wheedle information out of him for at least the rest of the day. It wasn’t like he could simply ignore a text from _her,_ and the contents of that particular message had him so distracted he completely forgot his surroundings.

 **Mogami 11:42  
** _Tomorrow. 8pm._

He tried to focus and keep his face impassive, while his phone was burning a hole in his pocket. Replying promptly to her was imperative, but Yashiro was right there… Just a little longer and he would be in his office, with relative privacy, but the minutes were ticking by and he didn’t want to leave her waiting. _Fuck it,_ he thought, knowing he could probably silence the line of questioning with a dazzling, gentlemanly smile.

 **Ren 11:51  
** _I’ll be waiting by the door._

This was pathetic, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Whatever she did to him, he would welcome it. The worse she hurt him, the better he felt, and now there was a whole new world of possibilities open to him. He wasn’t just another client anymore, he was her _sex toy._ Even though she would never return his feelings, it didn’t matter, because he was special. Their arrangement was _exclusive._ He was an idiot, filling his own head with false hope, but it was something, and he’d have gladly settled for anything.

 **Mogami 12:06  
** _Exactly how a dog should greet his Master._

Ren swallowed, his pulse suddenly racing. Those words excited him so much more than they should’ve, but how should he respond? Was he supposed to? There was a finality to what she said, but it also could’ve been playful. It was too difficult to tell without being able to see her face. Of course, if he chose wrong, then maybe she would punish him…

 **Ren: 12:08  
** _Shall I get down on all fours and lick your feet?_

 **Mogami 12:11  
** _There are better uses for your tongue._

His fingers tightened around the phone as he reread the words. Was this really happening, and how much longer would it go on? The stack of important paperwork on his desk lay forgotten, his eyes closing a moment, while he took a deep breath in and out. If he pushed his luck, what would the consequence be? _I am yours to command,_ he typed, his finger hovering over the send key. His was _hers._ Was he crossing a line? He shook his head, deleting the words. Cautious or bold, which was the right choice?

 **Ren 12:15  
** _Of course Mistress, whatever will satisfy you._

 **Mogami 12:19  
** _Remember that tomorrow night. Now, get back to work like a good boy._

He sighed, tucking his chin and running his fingers through his hair. With her, he was never sure of himself, doubting every word and action. This was a dangerous game, and if he misstepped, he stood to lose everything. Still, it was exhilarating, and he’d never felt more alive. Tomorrow night couldn’t come soon enough.

 

 

As much as she’d enjoyed their last session, things had not gone according to plan. It felt like, even tied up and underneath her, he’d managed to manipulate her with his body, getting the result _he_ desired. No matter how good it may have felt, being controlled like that was a humiliation should could not let stand. This time she would see him on his knees, trembling before her, and begging for mercy. Her pride would accept nothing else. With resolute determination, she stepped out of the elevator and stalked toward his apartment, ready to reassert her dominance.

The door opened as she approached, and sure enough there he was, down on all fours with his head bowed. She smiled to herself, enjoying the sight.

“Good boy,” she praised, petting his head.

He pressed his cheek to her thigh and she felt herself getting carried away. No, she wouldn’t get caught up in playing with his unreasonably soft hair. Today she had no intention of being nice to him, she reminded herself, pulling her hand away and heading for the kitchen. He had to make things so difficult for her, tamping down on the pride she felt looking at the well-stocked fridge. Forcing him to eat a large meal was certainly a good punishment, but that would come later. What she had in mind before then would be a lot more fun.

“Strip and prepare for inspection,” she instructed, leading him into the makeshift dungeon.

He stood before her, face forward and arms to his sides, as she walked around him in a circle, eyeing him up and down. She hummed her approval and held back a smile, wanting to make him work for it.

“On your knees, hands behind your back.”

Wordlessly he obeyed, and she knelt beside him to secure his ankles and wrists into a hogtie. His muscles shifted beneath her as she dragged her hands along his body, and she licked her lips. It was a good thing she’d gotten herself off earlier, or the frustration might’ve been too much. She was already high off the anticipation of seeing him squirm.

“How do you feel, any discomfort?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Good,” she affirmed, standing to survey her property.

The sight was almost enough to crumble her resolve, and she’d have been tempted to straddle him right then if not for the hint of a smile playing at his lips. He really did look quite satisfied with himself, she thought, which of course she could not allow.

“You know,” she bent down, taking hold of his chin and lifting it until he met her eyes, “I think I like you best like this, on your knees and completely at my mercy.”

She grinned wickedly as she leaned closer, bringing her mouth to his ear.

“Good enough to eat,” she whispered, dragging her tongue along his skin and then biting down.

He shuddered and she couldn’t help but laugh. Oh, how she was going to enjoy this. She set a small bowl of oil on the floor beside him, before freeing one wrist. When he looked at her confused, she had to fight to keep the amusement off her face.

“Use your free hand to stroke your cock, and at the very last second before you’re about to cum, _stop.”_

 

 

That was _not_ what he expected, but if she commanded it, then he would gladly obey. He looked up to gauge her expression, but she wasn’t looking at him at all. In fact, she looked almost bored, and then she… started playing with her phone? Everything she did was for a reason, he reminded himself, and she’d intentionally left off the blindfold. It had to mean something, and he didn’t want to disappoint her, so if that was what she wanted, then it was his duty to oblige.

He dipped his fingertips into the thick oil and rubbed it over his heated skin. He was half hard already, and if stopping just before climax was the goal, then he wouldn’t bother taking his time. His fingers curved around his shaft, stroking slowly from base to tip, as he let his eyes trail over her body. She was perched on a weight machine, her very short skirt exposing the smooth skin of her legs, and his grip tightened as he remembered the feel of her body against him. He thought of her getting him off in the shower, as Mogami-san, and increased his speed, imagining that his hand was hers.

The feel of the restraints, keeping him bound in position, heightened the sensation and reinforced her dominance. Even if she wasn’t touching him or currently instructing him, she was still in control, and the anticipation was incredible. His strokes became shorter, faster, and he kept going until his breathing was labored and he could feel himself getting close. He stopped, letting out a harsh breath through clenched teeth, and carefully worked himself higher, until the pressure was overwhelming and he was desperate for release.

“Mistress,” he struggled.

“Yes?”

“I’m about… to cum,” he managed, his entire body tense.

“Oh? Well then, wait until it’s safe to do so, and begin again. I probably don’t need to tell you, but don’t even _think_ about cumming without permission.”

What was left of his brain was afraid she’d say that. His fists clenched and he grit his teeth, ignoring the throbbing between his legs, and waited for the intense pressure to die down. It was almost too much, his skin oversensitized, and knowing he would have to deny himself again made it worse, even as it excited him. He groaned loud, and he heard her chuckle, a wicked sound that spurred him on. It was enough to know she enjoyed it, even a little. He wanted to suffer for her - to deny himself for her. Anything to please her.

“Mistress,” he whined, “I.. nnnnng.”

He heard her shift, and then the sound of her heels clicking across the floor. He forced his eyes open enough to see her, approaching with a devilish grin.

“Mmmm, such a good sex toy,” she purred, bending over him.

He leaned into her hand as she caressed his cheek, and prepared himself when she pulled back for a hard slap. She kept her palm to his skin, maximizing the sting, and he jerked, forcing himself to stay in control.

“You look so good like this,” she whispered, breath tickling his skin. “So delicious.”

She dragged her tongue along his jaw and he shuddered, every muscle in his body going rigid to hold himself back from breaking.

 

 

It wasn’t a surprise that he was doing so well, but they’d only just begun. Of course, it wasn’t fair since he didn’t know the stakes, but she would tell him eventually. It was only right to make him work for it, and she had every intention of doing just that. He really was quite beautiful though, she noticed, his chiseled body glistening with sweat.

“If you cum, I’ll punish you in a way you will _not_ like,” she promised, kneeling down in front of him and dragging her tongue up his sternum.

He made such a pitiful sound that her smile grew feral. She’d let him cool down a bit, and then _really_ make him suffer. It was almost too good, just thinking about the desperate sounds she would coax from him. After unlatching the hogtie and carefully releasing his ankles, she massaged blood back into the area and had him crawl to the bench. Once seated, she tied one wrist up over his head, leaving his ankles free.

“Again,” she whispered in his ear.

Dutifully he obeyed, his hand moving up and down. She looked into his face and he met her gaze, his eyes determined. It filled her with pride how much he wanted to please her, and how _hard_ he was trying. He looked ready to be devoured, but she had to hold herself back until the moment was just right.

“Mistress,” he moaned.

She bent forward and leaned in close.

“Yes, my sex toy?”

She walked her fingers up his arms, across his chest, and down his stomach. His muscles tensed, growing rigid everywhere she touched. It was too good, even better than she imagined, and she couldn’t help herself.

_“Mistress.”_

She bit him hard on the shoulder. That little brat knew she liked it, and he was trying to tease her! Oh, she was really going to have to pay him back for that.

 _“Yes,”_ she purred, running her tongue up the column of his neck.

He shuddered, panting, as she worked her way up to his jaw. She teased the tip of her nose side to side over his, their mouths so close she could taste his breath, and nipped his bottom lip. The hungry growl he rewarded her with sealed his fate. This time, when it was time to cool off, she tied up the other wrist too. She grabbed hold of his chin and lifted it, forcing him to meet her eyes again, and she smiled cruelly.

“If you cum without permission, it will be the last time I ever let you. Do you understand?”

He nodded through a clenched jaw.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Y-yes, Mistress.’

“Such a good boy,” she cooed.

His skin was hot and slick with sweat, and felt far too good to touch. She kneeled beside him on the bench, teasing his neck and jaw with her tongue as she moved her hand up his thigh. The pesky memory of the last time she did this, when she wasn’t Setsu, popped up, but she forced it down. He was throbbing and rock hard when she took hold of him, shuddering from the pleasure and pain of her touch. She stroked him slowly, agonizingly so, from base to tip, and he whined so beautifully for her.

His body shook, holding back with everything he had, and she released him. He was such a good boy, she almost felt bad. _Almost._ When she got to her knees on the floor and pushed his legs apart, his eyes were wide and full equally with excitement and fear. Even in that subservient position, she was still the one with the power, still the one in control.

“Don’t cum,” she warned, grabbing hold of him again.

She stared up at his face as she inched closer, stuck out her tongue, and then flicked the tip of his cock. He whimpered, straining against his bonds, as she swirled her tongue in a circle before taking him into her mouth.

 _“Please,”_ he begged, desperate.

She let him slide free with a lurid pop, still gripping him with her hand.

“Do not cum without permission,” she reminded, stroking up and down.

She teased him mercilessly, telling him over and over not to cum, as she placed soft kisses on his oversensitized skin, before licking him up and down. He trembled so pitifully that she didn’t want to stop, but she supposed it would have to be enough for one session.

“Alright,” she said, rising to her feet to grab a towel and free his wrists, “I guess you can cum.”

He cried out, a sound of pure desperation, and collapsed against her.

“Such a good boy.”

She hugged him to her chest and pet his head, whispering praises into his hair. If nothing else, she certainly felt better, even if he hadn’t satisfied her sexually. There was something so comforting about the fact that he would do anything she commanded. It shouldn’t have been remarkable, but with him the feeling was somehow different. She felt almost… fulfilled, and that would’ve terrified her if she really let herself think about it. At that moment, however, she was far too preoccupied with how _nice_ it was just holding him like that.

“Since you did so well,” she told him, finally letting go once he was able to hold up his own weight, “I’ll give you a reward. You may make one request, anything you like, and if it’s within reason, I’ll grant it. Think hard about what you want, I’m going to make dinner.”

He looked so pleased and hopeful, but her last words left him defeated. Maybe it was too much, but it felt like she could never get enough of torturing him.

 

 

She rationed the food more mercifully than he expected, and he was thankful, but even more so for the brief glimpse of domestic bliss. The two of them sitting at the table together, like a real couple. For as long as it lasted, he could pretend she was his, and that this was her home too. He could’ve sworn that Mogami-san peered out from behind the blonde bangs and grey contacts, but maybe he was just deluding himself. Why would she drop the persona now? She wouldn’t. This didn’t mean the same thing to her, wasn’t the same kind of special to her.

It hurt, a stinging pain in his chest that got worse the longer they sat there, but he never wanted it to end. When she left, he probably wouldn’t see her for a week, and the waiting was by far worse than anything else. He belonged to her completely, body and soul, but it was far too fleeting. When she finally got up to leave, he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Mistress,” he gulped, hoping he wasn’t crossing the line, “I know what I want.”

She turned back, eyeing him expectantly, “oh?”

“Will you… kiss me?”

His jaw clenched when her expression fell. It was an unspoken rule between them, and he’d respected it until now, but if he could really ask for _anything,_ then that’s what he wanted. She could always refuse. Cautiously, he took a small step toward her, pressing his luck.

“It doesn’t have to have a special meaning. Lips touching, isn’t it just another sensation?”

She gave him a sidelong look that seemed to say he was full of shit and she knew it, but it was okay to lie right, as long as neither of them admitted they were lying? Wasn’t that how it worked? He took another small step, feeling probably a little too bold since she hadn’t retreated or rejected him outright.

“If you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t ask you again, I just…”

Her eyes closed, chest rising and falling with a deep, silent breath. The corners of his lips lifted slightly, resigned to hear her voice the refusal he knew was coming.

“Alright,” she breathed, taking a single, hesitant step of her own.

His eyes widened, not quite believing his ears. He didn’t actually think she’d agree, even if he couldn’t stop himself from asking anyway. Now that she said yes, he was suddenly even more nervous. Quickly, he closed the distance between them, afraid that she would change her mind.

“Just another sensation,” he whispered, this time trying to convince himself.

How should he touch her, he wondered, and should he touch her? Would caressing her skin make it too intimate? Was it already? He bent forward, glad that her heels lessened the height disparity between them, and tentatively pressed his lips to hers. This was ridiculous, he chided himself, he’d done this a thousand times. Her lips were soft, but her body was stiff, and he wondered if he should stop. What the hell did he think he was doing anyway? Didn’t he know better? But he couldn’t just let this chance go to waste, not now.

He moved his lips against hers, one more time, and by some miracle she responded. The first press of her lips was hesitant; she was probably even less sure than he was, but she warmed up quickly, and somehow his hands found their way to her hips. She nipped him suddenly and he pulled her body into his, desperate to feel her more deeply. As if granting his wish, her tongue flicked against his lips and his mouth opened, ready to devour or be devoured.  Her hands trailed up his arms and behind his neck, fisting into his hair and pulling him closer. Was he dreaming? It didn’t matter.

The hands on her hips moved lower, his fingers pressing greedily into her skin and moving slowly but steadily inwards. She parted her legs for him and he worked his way between her thighs, savoring in the feel of silky skin, already so wet for him. It was so much better like this, with her tongue in his mouth, and he wanted more. He wanted all of her, and he wanted to take her to the bed. The only question was if she would let him.

 

 

What the hell was she doing? She didn’t know, but it wasn’t fair that he felt so good. His mouth on hers felt incredible, but she couldn’t let herself admit it _was_ more than just another sensation. It was too intensely intimate, but stopping felt impossible. With each touch and movement she was pulled deeper, until she could no longer see the surface. His fingers sent little pulses through her body everywhere they touched, amping her up, until there was nothing but him and his mouth. He lifted her until their bodies were flush,and she wrapped her legs around his waist, hungry for him.

It was delicious, heat flooding her entire body, and he started walking them into another room. She didn’t even care where they were going, and when he set them on the bed, alarm bells should’ve been sounding off in her head, but her traitorous body wouldn’t stop. She pulled him deeper by his hair, until he filled her mouth with his tongue, as her hips rocked against him in desperation. This was a mistake, she knew, but she didn’t care, as she slowly drowned in him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so first of all, sorry for the super long wait. The next chapter is done though, so that will be up in one week, and the chapter after that is like half done, so hopefully I can finish it within two weeks and upload that. You may not like me though because there’s going to be angst. Quite a bit of angst. However, that means sorting through and facing feelings, which is something that has to happen for these disasters to actually be together. I think this story is finally nearing the end, but that's mostly speculation on my part because I have no idea xD
> 
> Thanks for reading and for sticking around!!!


	19. Chapter 19

It happened naturally over time, guards slowly lowering. Talking seemed like something that was inevitable, when they spent so much time together being so intimate. What were they exactly, could she call them a sort of friends? He was a  _ lover, _ she supposed, though that word left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. Not her client for a while now, and not precisely just her  _ sex toy, _ as she was wont to call him. It was nice in a way, but at the same time, it felt like she was traversing thin ice that threatened to crack beneath her feet at any moment, plunging her into the dark, frozen depths.

“Ren isn’t my real name,” he confessed to her.

“And Setsu isn’t mine.”

He breathed out, almost a laugh, appreciating her intention.

“It doesn’t bother you, that I’m not the person I pretend to be?”

“Is anyone? Don’t we all have different faces we show to different people? Even if it’s not as literal in most cases, everyone pretends to be someone else, at least some of the time. Does it matter though? Changing your name and your eyes… wait, why does that sound so familiar?”

She tilted her head to the side, looking away and then at him, and he gave her one of those playful smiles that made him look like a little kid.

“Don’t forget the hair, except it’s a bit more permanent in my case,” he joked, pulling at the strands.

She rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance.

“I dye my hair from black too, you know.”

“It wasn’t black,” he teased, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

“Let me guess, bright red?”

What was he after? This was a strange kind of playing, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it.

“Sorry to disappoint but no, it’s blonde.”

“Uh huh.”

“Promise.”

She gave him an incredulous look, putting her hand under her chin.

“Should I let it grow then?” he asked, pointedly lowering his eyes. “That way you could see for yourself.”

“Don’t annoy me, I’ll bite you.”

“Promise?”

He grinned at her wickedly, the emperor looking out from behind his eyes, and she rolled away, pulling off the blanket.

_ “Mistress,” _ he entreated.

She tilted her head to look at him over her shoulder, chin tucked in so he wouldn’t see her smiling.

“Will you come back if I promise to behave?”

“Mmmm, how will you persuade me?”

“Shall I get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness?”

“You can try, but it might take  _ hours _ before I’m satisfied.”

“Then I’d better start right away.”

He took his time, trailing kisses from her ankle to her inner thigh, dutifully performing his act of play penance. The moment was so strange, his intentions too confusing, and it was a relief to go back to normal. Sex was, as always, a readily available escape, and one they utilized all too often. It was so easy to hide in the open, being honest about the fact that you were lying, so long as the truth was always carefully obscured. Of course, while his personal admissions increased the feeling of shared intimacy, they also served to make her feel progressively less sure of her footing.

 

The sex was incredible, but that wasn’t his favorite part. What he liked best was what came after, when Setsu or Mogami-san, or whoever she was, was vulnerable for the briefest moment – too tired to keep up the pretense of the act. It was then he caught glimpses of who she really was, each peek under her mask like a tiny, precious treasure he was hoarding for some unknown purpose. Skin on skin, almost too hot but somehow so comfortable, she’d lie peacefully in his arms, no longer completely opposed to the closeness.

Small glimpses into hidden inner worlds, but their secrets still safely protected. This strange dynamic that was so close to feeling real, and was almost effortless to maintain, though it was more than probably unhealthy. At times he had a sinking feeling like it wouldn’t be able to last, but he couldn’t dwell on it. They seemed to share an unspoken agreement not to talk about it, because then it would make continuing to pretend impossible. Even if it wasn’t exactly baring their hearts and souls to one another, when she started to open up, it made him melt.

“My ex-husband and I grew up together,” she explained, taking a deep breath.

He listened intently, watching her face. That she was sharing something so personal of her own volition, he almost couldn’t believe it.

“I was like his servant.  _ Anything for Sho-chan,” _ she recalled bitterly, grimacing. “He gladly took all that I offered until I was no longer of use, and then he cast me aside.”

She closed her eyes, a mirthless smile finding her face. He held himself back from reaching out to touch her, afraid that she’d stop speaking if interrupted.

“For almost twenty years I dedicated my life to him, and I stupidly thought we’d be together forever; that I would get back what I put in, but I was not enough. Because of him, I lost the desire to love or be loved. The only person I will ever let myself belong to is me, do you understand?”

He didn’t, though it wasn’t clear if she was saying it to herself or to him, afraid of their increasing closeness. Two decades with someone, he couldn’t imagine what she’d been through. His longest relationship had been in the range of eight months, and he wasn’t exactly crushed when it ended. He grabbed her chin, gently turning her head to face him. Her eyes were hard at first, refusing to meet his, and he smiled at her softly.

“I don’t want to own you or possess you.”

She closed her eyes, letting out a breath.

“We’ll see.”

What  _ did _ he want from her? He didn’t really know himself, but not being allowed to have someone hadn’t changed. This worked better for him, having her so close and yet still being out of his reach. They were both safe this way, even if his feelings threatened to drown him, and he had to hold himself back from trying to drown her in them, too. Maybe something would have to give eventually, but he’d do everything he could to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

“Mistress.”

“Yes?”

“At least you know I’d never want you to serve me, not when I’d much rather be  _ serving you.” _

She looked at him, properly for the first time since she started speaking.

“You’d be so much less annoying if you didn’t talk.”

“I know a way you can make me stop.”

“Oh?”

He smiled at her, inching closer.

“By kissing me.”

She rolled her eyes but assented, her lips pressing against and then melting into his. Their tongues twined together languidly at first, and then became needier and more urgent. It was too easy and too natural, the way their bodies fit together. Who cared about love or a relationship, when he was able to hold her like this? As long as he could be hers in some capacity, he didn’t care if she was ever his. At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. Sometimes he almost believed it.

 

It’d been happening so gradually that when she finally realized, it was too late. First, she’d just been intent on making sure he was eating properly. Of course, the easiest way to do that was to cook for him, and if she was cooking, then they might as well eat together. It was all perfectly natural, until there was a sick feeling in her stomach that wouldn’t go away. The situation felt so familiar, no matter how different it was, and all at once she couldn’t breathe, her lungs strangled by some unseen force. She held her trembling hand in a clenched fist, the overwhelming feeling of déjà vu drowning out all her senses.

“Mistress?”

He flew immediately to her side, asking if she was alright, and putting his arms around her.  _ Caging  _ her.

_ “No!” _ she yelled, pushing him off as she gasped for air.

She braced herself against the counter with one arm, holding out the other to keep him at bay, so that he wouldn’t get too near her. He was the problem, and what she needed was distance. She was overwhelmed, some hazy montage of bitter memories playing in her head and taking over her brain, until it forgot how to do things like think or breathe. They’d gotten too close, how did she not see it before? Did she want to go back, to throw away her hard-won pride and independence and be the property of a man? Her feet ached to run, but her head was spinning too fast. Then, her legs gave out from under her, and everything went dark.

Noise and lights, and rumbling underneath her, she bleared her eyes open slowly, her body heavy and her head splitting. When had they gotten in the car, and where were they going? She couldn’t remember.

“Don’t you think you should slow down?” she managed, despite the dryness in her throat.

They were liable to get in an accident with him driving like that.

“Mo-Mistress! Thank God.” He let out a heavy breath, the tension relaxing in his shoulders. “We’ll be at the hospital soon, please just rest.”

“Hospital? Why are you going to the hospital?”

“You collapsed. Even if you’re conscious now, you should still get checked out, just to be safe.”

What kind of fresh hell was this?

“Ren,” she started, thinking of how she could dissuade him without completely humiliating herself, “I’m fine.”

“You passed out on the floor while clutching your chest. You’re not fine.”

She clenched her eyes shut.

“I really am.”

“Well, you should still be checked out as a precaution.”

“I order you to take me back.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles were white, and he faced straight ahead, not turning his eyes toward her for a second.

“Even if it means… that I’m no longer… fit to serve you, I cannot obey this command.”

She was getting really and truly angry, how could he be this much of an idiot?!

“Can you please stop making such a fuss about this?”

Finally he looked at her, not understanding. Of all people!

“Someone who goes  _ catatonic  _ when he’s messed up, should at least know what hyperventilating looks like! The way you’re acting, you’d think I had a heart attack for crying out loud.”

His jaw fell open slightly, his eyes widening.  _ Oh, now you fucking get it. _

“Oh…”

“Yes,  _ oh. _ So, can you take me back now?”

He cleared his throat, once again avoiding her direction, and turned the car around at the next light.

“I’m sorry, I thought that…”

“How about we just don’t talk about it?”

“All… alright.”

 

You could’ve cut through the tension with a knife. He glanced over to her as discreetly as possible, without even turning his head. She was looking out the window, her arms crossed and her mouth a hard line, and he thought she might be more embarrassed than angry. Of course she’d be upset, having let him see her vulnerable like this, in a way he never had before; exposing a weakness. He wouldn’t judge her, she had to know that, but then, he supposed that didn’t matter. Something happened that wasn’t supposed to, and now he’d seen more than he was meant to.

Was it wrong, part of him being kind of glad it happened? She always acted so strong in front of him, like she was almost invincible, but she was human the same as him, and she was vulnerable too. He wanted to be there for her, but she’d never have let him, because to lean on him would mean to rely on someone, and especially with a man, that was something she couldn’t do. It wasn’t fair of him to ask or expect it, either, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting it. She didn't need protecting, but couldn’t he lend her his strength, the same way she leant him hers?

When they finally got back to his apartment, Chiori was waiting for them, and she looked  _ pissed. _

“Chiori,” she paled, “what are you...?”

“You didn’t check in when you were supposed to, and no calls got through on your phone.”

_ Shit. _ Her phone was still inside, wasn’t it?

_ “Fuck,”  _ she cursed, dragging a hand down her face. “Does Kanae…?”

Chiori regarded Kyoko with a look of stern disapproval, crossing her arms and jutting out her hip.

“She had a client, so I covered for you. I suggest you come up with a really good excuse for making her worry, and try to be less careless in the future. Do you want to get caught? I really thought you were smarter than this, I have to say I’m disappointed.”

His usually proud mistress said nothing in response to this censure, which he thought to be unnecessarily harsh, considering the circumstances. Instead, she lowered her head and slumped forward at the shoulders.

“There were extenu-“ he tried to explain.

Chiori’s head snapped in his direction, her face contorting in obvious disgust.

“No one is speaking to  _ you.” _

That was… he’d seen a lot of faces from her, but never this one. It seemed the game was over, and she was no longer playing around.

“You don’t have to speak then, just listen. This isn’t her fault.”

“Look at that,” she snarled, a mocking smile on her face, “the dog jumping to defend his master. Be a good boy and play dead, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Chiori,” Kyoko finally spoke, “you may say whatever you like to me; I know I have it coming, but this,” she paused, gesturing at him, “is my property.  Only I issue commands.”

That seemed to surprise Amamiya-san as much as him, and she stepped forward angrily. Kyoko wouldn’t defend herself, but she was defending him? He almost couldn’t believe it.

“Then tighten the leash on your pet, until it learns some respect.”

She nodded, bowing her head low.

“Ren, apologize.”

She wanted  _ him _ to apologize?! Was she serious? This was too much! Looks like she wasn’t defending him after all.

“I-“ he began, interrupted by the snapping of her fingers.

He clenched his jaw, furious, and let out a hard breath through his nose.

“I’m sorry,” he managed through gritted teeth, but he absolutely didn’t mean it.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

Amamiya-san smiled at him viciously, apparently satisfied, and left without another word. He didn’t understand any of what just happened, or why, but he knew his Tsuruga Ren mask had fallen and his true face was showing. She was still his Mistress, so no matter how much he wanted to demand answers, he was forced to bite his tongue. Since when had Amamiya-san had an issue with lying? There was something she wasn’t telling him, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to ask.

He was never supposed to ask. Not about this, and not about what happened earlier. That was  _ the rules, _ but he was so angry he didn’t know if he could hold himself back. Even if he’d agreed to it, being kept in the dark was really getting to him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could take it.

 

She could sense the hostility radiating from him, and she didn’t blame him really, because he didn’t understand the situation. Though even if it had been her place to say, it wasn’t any of his business. Chiori had every right to be upset, and they both owed her a lot for staying quiet. Keeping this secret from Kanae meant she was risking herself, and if the truth was discovered, it wouldn’t just be them paying the price. For Chiori, the cost would perhaps be the highest.

“Don’t forget everything she’s done, for both of us.” She turned to look at him, hoping to impress upon him the gravity of what was happening. “Chiori protected me tonight, at considerable danger to herself. She didn’t have to do that, and lying for me like this, it’s not something she takes lightly.”

“Mistress, please.”

The words and tone were incongruous. It was meant to be a plea, but it sounded more like a demand. That, she couldn’t deal with.

“What? What is it you want? For me to expose someone else’s secrets, or just to lay myself bare for you?”

“I…”

“Well,” she demanded, “which is it?”

“Neither, I just-“

“You just what?”

Now she really was angry. There was a line, and tonight he definitely crossed it. He knew it too, but that changed nothing.

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

But for a completely different reason.

“Mistress,  _ please.” _

He closed his eyes, his hands balled into fists. She knew what was going through his head.

“What exactly do you want from me? I can’t give you what you’re asking for.”

“Please, I just want things to continue like they are.”

She shook her head; she knew what he wanted. Cooking for him, taking care of him, like they were some kind of married couple.

“That’s not true though, is it? Playing house like we have been, it’s easy to forget what this really is.”

“But that  _ is _ what it is, right, playing? What we do is all pretend, and when the scene ends, no matter how tightly I cling, you’ll slip through my fingers. I know that, and I’m not asking for you to be mine. It’s enough for me, being able to belong to you even just as your dog. I don’t want anything else.”

“Don’t you?”

“Even if I wanted to possess you, I know that I never could. The way things are, I don’t want them to change. I don’t want to change  _ you.” _

She wanted to believe him, she really did, but how could she? Things had gotten too comfortable, and she’d grown complacent and susceptible to that weakness that was her greatest fear. He offered her pretty words, but how could she trust them? No matter what, he was still a man, and they were all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really did try to write a chapter that was fluffy from beginning to end, and obviously that didn’t work. Next chapter is more hurt, but there’s some comfort. It has to get worse before it can get better. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!
> 
> Now, let’s see if I can finish 20 by next week :/


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: Character Death. Also, it’s a small part, but if fertility/infertility is a trigger for you, proceed with caution.

****It was like being on autopilot. All the things she should’ve been feeling, _wait,_ what exactly should she have been feeling? What was the appropriate emotion at this moment, because she had no idea. Regardless, she didn’t feel it, because she didn’t feel a fucking thing. It was striking, the emptiness inside her. Peaceful, and yet kind of difficult to keep her body upright and behave in the way she was supposed to. Manners and duty all seemed so distant, what… what did it all matter? None of it mattered, since she found herself unable to care.

She would be standing still, staring off at nothing, and a firm but gentle hand would pull her back into herself, at least enough to keep up the pretense that she was a person. It felt like, instead, that she was a marionette, pulling her own strings from somewhere buried deep inside herself. She didn’t really know how or why, but it was a compulsion to keep going, probably because she had to. Idly, she wondered if she really did, but then when this emptiness was filled, her actions now had the potential to mortify her.

“Kyoko-chan, you came.”

“Toudou-san,” she greeted numbly.

He gave her a rueful smile but she couldn’t return it. She couldn’t recall how to make her face do what it was supposed to. Maybe she’d figure out which string to pull for that by the time the whole thing was over. That would probably be good.

“You look well all things considered, Kyoko-chan. I know Saena would’ve been glad of that.”

She wanted to laugh. Here he was, the man in love her mother for decades; her constant companion, lying to the daughter of the deceased.

“If it’s all the same, Toudou-san,” Kanae interjected, “could we dispense with the smalltalk?”

He bowed his head apologetically, “of course, but Kyoko-chan, I’d like to speak soon, if you’d allow it.”

How was she meant to respond? She let out of a sort of hum, letting his words hang in the air between them. Like a wind-up toy she walked forward, a sort of echo of dread reverberating in the pit of her stomach. There was no turning back now, this is what she came here to do - perform her duty as the daughter of this woman, even if it was in name only. She touched her hand to her cheek, surprised to find that it was wet, though it didn't appear to be raining. A tissue was pushed into her hands, and she turned her head to see Moko’s small, reassuring smile.

“It’s okay to cry, whatever you need to do, you do it. What these people think doesn’t matter.”

She turned her hand over, studying the tissue, the way the fibers joined together. What was she supposed to do with this? The arm around her tightened, a head leaning against hers. She’d have been surprised by this much affection, but she was too busy staring at the soft, crumpled bit of fabric.

 

 

The last person he expected to see was Kotonami-san, but there she was, standing in his doorway with eyes that could kill. It looked like Mogami-san finally told her the truth, but since he wasn’t entirely sure if there was still anything between them, he didn’t know what she wanted. He also really wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

“How can I help you, Kotonami-san?” he asked, voice clipped.

She scoffed, frowning deeply.

“Get what you need, we’re leaving.”

Oh, she was telling jokes now, apparently. That was new.

“And where is it I’m supposed to be going?"

“To fix her.”

His brow furrowed, confusion thoroughly setting in. _Her_ could only mean one person, but that seemed impossible. There had to be some mistake.

“What?”

She let out a huff, apparently no happier to be having this conversation than he was.

“I don’t like you, and I haven’t forgiven anything, but right now that doesn’t matter. You’re coming with me, and you’re going to find a way to fix her. Hurry up.”

Maybe because it was a well-practiced habit, but he did as he was told, grabbing his phone and keys and following her out. Whatever was going on was obviously serious, but his heart still filled with hope at the thought of seeing _her_ \- a hope he desperately tried, and failed, to smother. After a harrowing car ride, silent save for Kotonami cursing out other motorists, they arrived at an apartment complex.

“Where are we?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

“You mean you don’t know?” She gave him an incredulous look.

He shrugged, asking only because it’s what he was supposed to do. “Should I?”

She hummed. “Looks like I overestimated you.”

There was a hint of triumph in her voice, and he was afraid to ask in case he was wrong. This way All he wanted was to cling to his hope for just a little longer. His pulse pounded in his ears as she turned the key in the lock, and he found himself holding his breath, as though exhaling would shatter the illusion.

“Mo, are you going to come in, or did you plan on just standing there all night?”

He couldn’t help it, he was transfixed. He released the air in his lungs and crossed the threshold, taking in his surroundings. It _was_ her place, it had to be - it felt just like her. Once the initial shock began to dissipate, he sobered, finally asking the question.

“What’s going on?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed wearily, before giving him a stern look.

“I suppose I have to tell you. Do you know about Kyoko’s mother?”

He shook his head, a pit forming in his stomach.

“She... she died. I’ll leave it up to her if she wants you to know the details, but for some inexplicable reason, Kyoko loved her, and she…” Kotonami swallowed, wincing as though in pain, and when she opened her eyes again, they were wet. “Well, you’ll see.”

His heart sank, and he mentally kicked himself for ever wanting to see her vulnerable.

“Where is she?” he demanded, unexpectedly loud.

“Upstairs to the left.”

He ran, skipping two thirds of the steps, and rushed to her door. When he came in she didn’t even stir, curled up motionless on the bed. His hands balled into fists, his throat tight, as he kneeled on the floor beside her.

_“Mistress.”_

 

 

That word spoken with that voice cut into her heart like a dull knife, and still she couldn’t move. Why was he here? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. If he didn’t stop, she was bound to overflow, until all the cracks were ripped wide open and she was torn to pieces.

“Please,” she breathed, her throat so dry she could barely speak.

“Anything,” he promised, the liar.

Just that word and he’d already broken it.

“Please,” she begged, but it was too late.

Tears surged up and poured from her eyes, scalding her cheeks; deep sobs wracking her body. She pressed her eyes shut tighter, but it wouldn’t stop, the pain choking her insides too intense to withstand. His arms wrapped around her and she wanted to throw them off, but she was helpless to resist. All she could do was to keep her eyes shut, so that she wouldn’t see him, and hope he would leave on his own. Her fingers bunched into his shirt, clinging tightly, desperate for him to understand. Why didn’t he understand? Why was he determined to destroy her?

“Mistress,” he whispered softly into her hair, petting her head. “I’m here.”

“Please,” she cried, “please.”

He only held her tighter, making everything so much worse. The tears wouldn’t stop, but she couldn’t breathe. He let loose everything that was buried inside her, and she was suffocating, the air in her lungs strangled by the intensity of his affection. She couldn’t bear it, but she was too weak to push him away. She was a captive in his embrace, as he tried to smother her with the weight of his feelings. Maybe he was just terrible enough to deserve her.

“Mistress.”

That one word, it was all he could seem to say, as hot streams of tears soaked their clothes and her body convulsed violently, unable to contain everything inside it. He was such an idiot; completely useless, just kissing her head and drawing idle circles on her back. As though that did anything. He made it all so much worse.

“Why?” she gasped.

“Kotonami-san was worried about you.”

Moko, that traitor. Was this revenge? Wasn’t it supposed to be served cold? It was all too fresh; she needed time. Everything was raw, each sensation magnified, and if the hand furiously squeezing her heart didn’t loosen its grip, she felt like it was liable to really and truly kill her. That almost seemed like some kind of poetic justice in a way.

“Mistress.”

He cupped her cheek, still pinning her in place; searing pain burning her everywhere that he touched until her whole body felt like it was on fire. She slumped against him, wragged and broken, as the tears dried up and started again, and dried up and started again, until there was truly nothing left.

 

 

He was in the kitchen washing dishes when a knock at the door changed everything.

“I’m-” the stranger started.

“I know who you are,” Kotonami-san cut him off, crossing her arms. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to see my wife.”

Panic gripped Ren’s chest so tight he thought his heart would stop beating. He shouldn’t have been there; shouldn’t have been hearing this. All that held him back from wringing the neck of this unwelcome guest was an irrepressible, morbid curiosity. There were so many things he didn’t know, and maybe this was his chance to find out...

“Ex-wife,” she corrected.

“We’ll see.”

It was a conversation he never should have witnessed, and now that it kept playing over and over in his head, he wished he never had. Each and every word was a twist of the knife stabbing into his heart. _I know her better than anyone else._ That’s what Fuwa Sho had claimed, and how could Ren argue? No matter how much he wished that he never heard the words, he couldn’t rewind time, and he couldn’t make them any less true.

This man, regardless of his extremely punchable face, had grown up with Mogami-san; had seen how all the wounds he didn’t even know existed, formed. There was no way he could compete with that. She’d always been the one giving _him_ comfort; had even helped broker some kind of peace with his darkness, but he’d done nothing for her in return. Except for the sex, everything between them had been one sided, but here was someone who claimed to love her, and that she probably still loved back. In wanting for it not to be real, he was just proving his own selfishness.

He went back upstairs, and _I never stopped loving her,_ echoed in his ears as she cried about never being good enough; about how the people she loved would always abandon her. It was a sick feeling, the weight of the truth bearing down on his insides until every second he held back seemed like another betrayal, but he couldn't break down, not yet. For her he would hold himself together. He stayed by her side as she slept, after the tears finally dried up. She looked so small and fragile as he held her in his arms, like a child, and there was nothing he could do to make it better.

He swallowed through a clenched jaw, trying to forget, as he blinked away the prickling sensation at the back of his eyes. All the time they’d spent together, and did he really understand her at all? The pain she hid was so deep that it was drowning her, and his own past seemed inconsequential by comparison. He wanted to see the parts of her heart she kept hidden, but not like this.

“Mistress, how are you feeling?” he asked, once she finally opened her eyes.

“A little better, thanks.” She gave him a strained smile and his heart sank all the way into the pit that was his stomach.

He was a bastard for wanting to drag it out more, but the thought of not seeing her face again was too painful to even imagine. Just keeping his mask fixed in place took every ounce of effort he was capable of, and he didn’t know how much longer he could do it. He had to, for her sake, but the bitterness of envy and anger coiled up inside his limbs, rotting away the marrow. She had a chance to be happy, and it wasn’t right for him to deny her that. He owed her too much, and even he wasn’t that cruel.

 

 

It was so surreal to be sitting in the same room as Sho, after so many years. She was still a wreck emotionally, and didn’t really know how to feel about any of it, but she was too tired to be angry.

“I went to the funeral, but your _friend_ wouldn’t let me talk to you,” he explained.

She had no idea what to say, so she just hummed.

“Kyoko, I…” he began, getting up from his chair, “I didn’t want to get a divorce.”

Her throat felt tight, and she was dizzy, like the room was suddenly spinning. He walked to her and knelt on the ground, _him, kneeling,_ and took her hands. She was frozen, too bewildered to move or pull away.

“What I said back then, I didn’t mean it. I was just so frustrated with the situation, but I… I never cheated on you.”

She shook her head, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, Kyoko, it’s the truth. You were so hurt, and my parents, they made me go through with it, but I never stopped _loving_ you.”

That one word snapped something inside her, and all the sudden she was awake, every bitter memory flooding her brain.

She jumped up from the couch, ripping her hands away, and repeated more firmly, “why are you telling me this?”

“When I heard about Saena I couldn’t stay away. I’m still your family.”

She breathed out a humorless laugh, feeling like she was going insane. Was she dreaming? This couldn’t really be happening.

“You don’t even know who I am.”

“That’s not true,” he argued, moving forward. “We’ve always known each other better than anyone else, and nothing will change that.”

 _“You_ changed that, but you know what? I’m _glad,_ because I was suffocating when I was with you. No matter what, I was never good enough. Not for you, and not for your family.”

“It’s different now, and honestly, I didn't really want to be a father in the first place.”

Now she really was laughing, so hard she couldn’t breathe. She felt hysterical. All the doctors appointments and hormone therapies and foul tinctures and acupuncture treatments... She ran herself ragged trying to produce an heir, in order to be a perfect daughter for the Fuwa family. After all that, he had the audacity to tell her he _didn’t even want kids,_ when that was what destroyed their relationships in the first place? When that was what destroyed _her?_

The years of her life he wasted, all because of his selfish cowardice; unwilling to stand up to his parents. No, even worse, he’d let her take the blame, and now he decided to force his way back in, throwing around words like _love_?

“You think you know me _Shotaro?”_ She smiled at him viciously. “Why don’t I show you who I am?”

She placed her hands on his chest, and shoved him onto the couch. His eyes went wide in surprise, and her smile grew feral. _That’s right,_ she thought, _and I'm just getting started._

“You just stay there like a good boy, and I’ll be right back.”

It took her about fifteen minutes to get dressed, put on her wig, and apply minimal makeup. He wasn’t worth the effort she put in for her clients, but it would be more than enough. With a quick check in the mirror, she smoothed her hands over her pleather skirt, and zipped up her thigh high boots. With a riding crop in one hand, she marched triumphantly back into the room, delighted at the sight of his jaw falling open.

 _“Kyoko?!_ What the hell?!”

She shoved him back down with one foot when he tried to stand.

“I thought you knew me better than anyone, Sho. Why do you look so surprised?” She purred out a feline laugh, letting Setsu wash over her completely. “Did you not know that this is what I do? That I tie people up and torture them, for money? That I bring all their twisted little fantasies to life? Did you know that I enjoy _every minute of it?”_

A mixture of anger and confusion crossed his face, like he couldn’t decide what to think about it.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he demanded.

She poked him in the chest with the crop and he smacked it away, making her smile even harder.

“Why, is it funny to you? Do you know I have a personal _sex toy?_ He satisfies me in ways you never could.”

“I don’t want to hear anymore!”

“Then leave. I have a life, Sho, and there’s no room for you in it. _I like me_ , the me that I am without you, and I wouldn’t go back even if you paid me... Not that _you_ could afford my services.”

His his upper lip trembled with rage. “You’re disgusting.”

“But Sho,” she stepped forward, power and confidence flowing through her as she watched him retreat, “I thought we were _family.”_

“You’re right,” he spat. “I _don’t_ know who are you.” He gave her one last look of contempt and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

She realized it then that she’d outgrown him. The smooth timbre of his voice no longer sounded sweet. His handsome face had lost its appeal. Once he was her prince; her entire world, eclipsing everything else and even her own self, but now he was no one, and he couldn’t affect her anymore. She was finally _free._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so this chapter covered more plot than any other chapter but I’m lazy so ehhhhh. There’s a chance next chapter could be the last one?! I don’t know. I need to write it to find out. I can’t even believe I finished this chapter and the one for the bartender au on time. It’s either a miracle or a sign of the end times. Now to go have horrible writer’s block because my brain fucking hates endings and I have no outline to work from xD
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
